Revolver: A Bold Testament to the Beatles’ Imagination, Vision, and Inspiration

The Conclusion to our Fest for Beatles Fans Deep-Dive Into Revolver

By Robert Rodriguez

Thank you, one and all, for being with us for the last 18 months as The Fest for Beatles Fans delved into the multi-faceted, intricate work that is Revolver. What an exciting ride it has been working with such remarkable authors to uncover the many, many layers of this unparalleled work! We truly appreciate each one of these people taking time from their films, books, art, lectures, podcasts, webinars, and personal appearances to share their thoughts with us.

No one could close this lengthy study of Revolver better than the man who wrote THE book on Revolver, Robert Rodriguez. Until I read Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, I had no room in my heart for this album that sang about taxes, death, a doctor supplying drugs, and relationships in decay. At 15 years old, I didn’t understand a great deal of it, and I didn’t like it, much. So, I dismissed it for ages.

But Robert artfully opened the colorful, magical pop-up book that is Revolver for me and made it not only vastly comprehendible, but also majestic.

Here is Robert’s superb conclusion to our study and please…read his book for the full effect!

– Jude Southerland Kessler

1966 was already shaping up as a departure from the previous three grueling years by the time The Beatles reconvened in the studio to begin work on their follow-up to Rubber Soul. 1963 had seen them parlay their first two hit singles for Parlophone into a best-selling album (and a follow-up), while 1965 was an echo of 1964: the year beginning with a new film and soundtrack album, followed by a world tour before releasing what had become a tradition for them, the holiday season long-player.

If overshooting their target goal to become a hitmaking entity had become a grind, there were plenty of signs along the way that artistic restlessness and aversion to formula was paying dividends. The Help! soundtrack album saw a leap forward with the recording of “Yesterday,” a distinctly non-beat group track that everyone must have recognized as a departure (and that they must have felt a degree of self-consciousness about, in that rather than showcasing it, they buried it on side two and then refused to release it as a single in the UK). This was followed in the autumn by Rubber Soul, which yielded further evidence of their embrace of studio craft. If heretofore their albums were primarily comprised of songs that could more or less be reproduced on stage, the baroque-sounding “wind-up piano” of “In My Life” or the exotically Eastern-sounding “Norwegian Wood” pointed away from what had been their custom.

They also were not creating in a vacuum. Informing their ambitions every step of the way was what was going on in the world of singles and albums, something they paid close attention to. This was evident at the beginning, with their embrace of early rock ‘n’ roll and subsequent disdain of much of what was popular coming out of Britain just before their own contract signing. Upon landing a record deal, they asserted the freedom to record their own compositions, an unheard-of demand for newbies with few cards to play.

But in fact, it was their in-house songwriting team that made them attractive to EMI in the first place. The company’s gamble on a long shot paid off dividends beyond their wildest expectations. In exchange, the label was willing to indulge the Beatles’ desire for freedom in the studio and their drive to widen the paradigm within their genre.

Each step they took creatively was a move past where they’d been before, but as long as they continue to score a million sellers, Parlophone could not quibble with this golden goose. The label could be demanding, and in this case, requiring some Christmas product when the band was fairly spent after such a busy year. But The Beatles recognized that the price for the latitude accorded them was to deliver. And despite a certain amount of scrounging to get Rubber Soul into shape, deliver they did, with John in particular cresting as a writer on that album. “In My Life” – “Norwegian Wood” – “The Word” – “Girl” – all stand among his finest achievements as a Beatle. (Less so “Run For Your Life,” a late clue to their past direction.)

Early in the new year, the group was signaling that they’d reached the end of the rope with certain constraints imposed upon them. Despite Brian Epstein’s admonitions to the contrary, they became increasingly frank in their exchanges with the press, no longer steering clear of controversy. Nowadays we live in a world where the PR team keeps a tight control over the artist’s image, but as with so much, The Beatles were sailing into uncharted waters.

And there was the matter of their presentation. Photographer Robert Whitaker had been working with them since the Beatlemania days of 1964, more or less capturing them in flattering but conventional ways. Come March of ‘66, he was ready to take them in a more artsy and less commercial (to say the least) direction. The Beatles were certainly in the position to say no, but instead they embraced it. The ensuing outré shoot, nowadays known for yielding the so-called “Butcher cover,” was pretty dramatic evidence of a step toward their own artistic flexibility and away from the carefully cultivated moptop image that had sustained them to this point.

It came on the heels of the series of profiles given to journalist Maureen Cleave in the London Evening Standard earlier that month. Though not seeking controversy for its own sake the way a less disciplined public figure might, they certainly did not hold back from speaking their minds on an array of taboo subjects, including racism and religion.

What all this points to is they were chafing at the restraints they’d been subjected to thus far. Achieving and sustaining fame were no longer inhibiting considerations. They were moving toward describing themselves as artists, not simply “recording artists.” Though John was a few years away from calling everything he did art, it was clear that he and Paul at least saw what they were doing as something lasting and of value beyond the ephemeral pop chart considerations. They had earned a certain amount of liberty with their record label, and with sales no longer of utmost importance, they were now willing to act on any creative impulse they could conceive.

This period of early 1966 presented them with a gift of sorts: unlike their previous album project, they now had a bounty of time to produce a follow-up, owing to the circumstance of time budgeted for producing their third film going unused due to the lack of agreement on a script. Though it would have been fascinating to have seen what they would have come up with, knowing where their heads were at the time, our cinematic loss was their musical gain with the extra time they had to craft this release.

There is another aspect worth noting informing the direction that this particular project took, and with one Beatle in particular. As John would observe after the breakup, Rubber Soul was the pot album as Revolver had been the acid album. He needn’t have been describing himself, although that much was accurate. Really, he was speaking of a mindset informing the creation of the two respective releases. Whereas Rubber Soul possessed a chill vibe and more mature themes than previous releases, the expanded consciousness associated with the latter drug is readily apparent throughout the latter album, if the stylistic diversity and implicit psychedelic subtext is anything to go by. Lest we take this point too far, let’s underscore one thing right here: The Beatles were already extraordinarily gifted songwriters going back to the amphetamine years off the heels of Hamburg. Beyond the occasional weed or alcohol, they never deliberately worked in the studio under the influence (save the one occasion during the Sgt. Pepper sessions when John accidentally dosed himself, but it should be noted that no further work was done that night). All the drug talk here is meant to make the point that 1) It was definitely a part of their lives at this point and 2) Its use coincided with an undeniable expansion in their artistry. Any other direct correlation would be speculation.

So, all of this is meant to lay out what made Revolver a departure from previous work at the onset: 1) A demonstrable desire to advance their art; 2) A state of heightened consciousness that could in part at least be attributed to their recreational pursuits; 3) an unwillingness to play the game as they had to this point, and 4) more time to work on an album than they’d previously experienced.

If anyone is looking for more tangible proof of their intentions, look no further than the first session for this album, wherein they threw away everything they knew about making records. “Tomorrow Never Knows,” initially “Mark I,” would be the first fruit of their labors. We as listeners have been exposed to so much since August 1966 that it would be impossible for all but the people who were of age at the time to recognize what a leap into the future this recording was. The only artist that came close to concurrent experimentation would have been Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, hardly in the same lane as the Beatles. (Their debut album, Freak Out!, was released in late June 1966, coinciding with the end of the Revolver sessions. Though a commercial failure in the states, it did better in Europe and Paul was said to have been a fan, telling people it was an inspiration for Sgt. Pepper.)

Though US fans would have been familiar with full-blown Indian performances on the Capitol version of Help!, George’s “Love You To” presented this music as Beatles and not simply incidental music. This song showcased an early effort at following his bliss, something he would pursue with a vengeance following the end of touring later that year. Indian sounds had begun creeping into Western pop music the previous year, predating even “Norwegian Wood,” but no one had presented a fully formed piece of raga rock like this before.

Since moving in with the Ashers in 1963, Paul had been undertaking an advanced course in cultural enrichment. Living in the heart of London (whereas his bandmates had moved out to the suburbs), he was also the sole bachelor and thus readily available to partake in all the happenings while Swinging London was the center of the artistic universe. This immersion encompassed everything from the fine arts, classical and modern, as well as the avant-garde and experimental. His familiarity with the latter tended to manifest not in his own compositions, but those of his bandmates: tape loops for John’s “Tomorrow Never Knows”; dissonance for George’s “I Want To Tell You”; Eastern-sounding lead guitar for George’s “Taxman.” (This was something Jeff Beck had been exploring with The Yardbirds, notably on “Heart Full of Soul” but also “Over Under Sideways Down.”)

But for his own compositions, Paul’s stretching out took the form of applying elements far beyond their beat group origins. “Eleanor Rigby” was a triumph on every level: George Martin’s dramatic string octet score was like nothing else heard in pop to that time. (The closest thing to it heard on top 40 radio that year may have been the similarly string-laden “Walk Away Renee” by NYC’s The Left Banke, released in July but actually recorded in March.) An egalitarian spirit resulted in the song’s social commentary lyrics (an element prompting no little resentment from John over Paul’s willingness to accept creative input from anyone who was around). But the song’s theme of universal loneliness was an atypical excursion into what had once been Bob Dylan territory. It laid out a problem but offered no comforting solution.

Indeed, Paul’s willingness to repurpose sounds associated with his peer artists could be found all over the album. “Good Day Sunshine” was directly inspired by the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Daydream,” while the exquisite “Here There and Everywhere” evoked the sound The Beach Boys had borrowed from The Four Freshmen. Brian Wilson (at least, among his band) had by this time scaled ambitions upward on a parallel path along with The Beatles (the Capitol iteration of Rubber Soul being a direct inspiration for their own breakthrough album, 1966’s Pet Sounds). Likewise, in their own way, The Byrds were quickly moving past their folk-rock origins to similarly assimilate Eastern ideas into their music, culminating with the modal improvisations of “Eight Miles High” – a single whose title may have evoked the drug culture but in fact was inspired by their flight to the UK. Here, they channeled Ravi Shankar not with sitar, but with the sound of a 12-string Rickenbacker, itself inspired by George in the first place.

Less directly precedented were two of Paul’s stylistic excursions heard on side two: the classically inspired “For No One” and the R&B shouter, “Got To Get You Into My Life.” The first one, with its elegant clavichord and tasteful French horn solo was dubbed “Baroque and Roll” by those who thrill in such labels. Not to be overlooked was the stark depiction of heartache in the lyrics; a subject Macca did not typically traffic in. Like “Eleanor Rigby,” there was no solace to be found here; it may be for its perceived “realism” that John declared it to be a particular favorite.

The latter composition featured an authentic soul horn section, an element that would regularly be featured in Paul’s solo work. It also possessed a clever double meaning lyric that worked as a love song as well as its true subject matter, pot (or acid, depending on the telling). If one needs any further evidence of how ahead of the curve The Beatles were in general, or this album in particular, consider this: “Got To Get You Into My Life” was issued as a single in the US one decade after its creation: not as a charming anachronism like “The Twist,” “Monster Mash,” or “Rock Around The Clock” but competing alongside the sounds of the day, including Silver Convention’s “Get Up and Boogie,” Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town,” and Paul’s own “Silly Love Songs.” It peaked at number 7, which was two places higher than the remake by Earth, Wind and Fire two years later.

Returning for a moment to the subject of drugs again, it’s not hard to find the evidence of John’s infatuation at the time. In addition to the user’s manual for tripping depicted in “Tomorrow Never Knows,” we have his description of a bad trip in “She Said, She Said”; an advert for a friendly pill-pusher in “Dr. Robert,” and the more subtle expressions of his expanded consciousness presented in “I’m Only Sleeping” and “And Your Bird Can Sing.” The former song concerns itself with the joy readily attainable by slipping out of the fully conscious state of mind, while the latter advocated for finding peace of mind from the internal rather than the external. (This of course predated their fascination with the Maharishi’s teachings.)

George evoked his acid experience with “I Want To Tell You,” a song stating how his newfound insights left him inarticulate. Though psychedelic-themed, it featured a conventional arrangement with the aforementioned dissonance added. “Love You To” may indirectly reflect his LSD insights as he advised his listeners of the heightened awareness he had begun to acquire in the form of admonitions. One may observe that this became a less attractive quality well into his solo years, but here it is, tempered with an exciting arrangement and climactic finish. (To traffic in double entendres is undoubtedly more fun for the person doing it than it is for the reader, to be sure.)

Left undiscussed to this point is the Ringo vocal spotlight, the deceptively psychedelic “Yellow Submarine.” Like some of George’s more ponderous material, this tends to be a divisive one for fans. To hate on it would be to miss the point: it was, on one level, intended as a sing-along for children and with that modest goal, it hit the mark. But there’s certainly room in interpreting the lyrics to find evocative imagery and the deeper theme of a collective society living in harmony. What is most interesting nowadays is the recent revelation of the verses apparently initiating with John, rather than Paul. A work tape surfaced while archivists were putting together the expanded Revolver set, featuring John on acoustic guitar singing a structure very like the eventual verses, but much, much grimmer. It reads like a precursor to his Plastic Ono Band confessionals, declaring of his childhood, “no one cared, no one cared.” Had they continued down that particular path, perhaps the song would have been realized as another in the lineage of “I’m A Loser” and “Help!” But thankfully for Al Brodax, Heinz Edelmann and Ringo, the song was retooled into the form it is known today.

Revolver stands as a bold testament to imagination, vision and inspiration. With its breadth and depth, it was a feat of colossal daring that might have been received the same way the Magical Mystery Tour film was a year-and-a-half later: self-indulgent, messy, indecipherable. But The Beatles’ read on their audience, as always, was pitch perfect; they did not get too far ahead of themselves to lose their base. Crafting a collection wherein virtually every tune on it was a subgenre unto itself represented an unprecedented demolition of barriers. In less than a year, The Beatles would present to the world an album where they used an alter ego identity as a means of presenting a justification for diversity outside The Beatles’ existing paradigm. Perhaps they’d forgotten they’d already done it with Revolver, while dispensing with the mask.

It is practically impossible at this distance to grasp the audacity The Beatles must have possessed to lay this on the world. For some fans, it may have been a little dark or weird but their fellow creators were surely listening. The most imaginative minds in their field were most certainly inspired to break through some barriers of their own. Funnily enough, one of its detractors at the time was Ray Davies of The Kinks, who famously nitpicked the album with faint praise (“…at least it was recorded well”) when not calling parts of it “rubbish.” Let’s try to remember he was still in his twenties and not selling records in the same volume as those he would critique. His assessment has not aged well, and on the contrary, Revolver began to experience a well-earned second look of appreciation by the 1990s, perhaps informed by the UK iteration getting worldwide distribution on CD.

It was a fluke of history that Revolver arrived at a time that the public’s attention wasn’t ready to recognize this advance in their art. They still looked more or less the same as they had in the previous years, and their tours had become routine. The “more popular than Jesus” controversy surely knocked them off message in the media, with journalists more interested in taking John and the group down a peg or two than they were in expressing any curiosity in the groundbreaking music they just crafted. And then there was The Beatles themselves, who followed up the release six months later with the astonishing double-A side single, “Strawberry Fields Forever”/”Penny Lane.” After that nail-biting period of “Are they breaking up?” (there was no holiday release, after all) was answered by their new look and astonishing sound, the release of Sgt. Pepper was heralded unmistakably as an event in a way that Revolver‘s arrival wasn’t.

Revolver represents a revolutionary leap into the future, as well as risk-taking that took The Beatles – and their listeners – out of their comfort zone. For decades to come, it gave artists that followed permission to explore outside of existing paradigms. While Pepper was presented with a well-articulated concept (i.e. WE are Sgt. Pepper’s band, putting on a show), with the costumes to prove it, Revolver‘s cohesive framework was more subtle: “We’re The Beatles and we can do whatever that hell we want. Would you like to come along?”

For more information on Robert Rodriguez, his excellent books on The Beatles, and his podcast, “Something About The Beatles,” HEAD HERE

Revolver Deep Dive Part 14: Tomorrow Never Knows

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Revolver

Side Two, Track Seven

“Tomorrow Never Knows”: The First Shall Be Last

by Jude Southerland Kessler

For the last 18 months, our Fest Blog has been replete with deep dives into the songs comprising The Beatles’ remarkable LP, Revolver. At long last, we’ve reached the final track…a track which, oddly enough, was the first recorded during the sessions for the album. Innovative, a bit bizarre, and fascinating, “Tomorrow Never Knows” was a game-changer. Indeed, the very title of the track was thought-provoking. It summarized the feelings of so many fans after listening to the new record. In only three short years, The Beatles had swiveled from “She Loves You” to “In My Life” to this! What a tremendous difference. In the summer of 1966, the question on everyone’s mind was, “What will happen next?” And the answer… “Tomorrow never knows.”

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: Wednesday, 6 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Three

Time Recorded: Evening Session from 8.00 p.m. – 1.15 a.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick (newly promoted to fill this slot)

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 70 and Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 105)

On this day: The Beatles begin work on their seventh studio LP with the recording of John Lennon’s song originally entitled “Mark I” and eventually known by a Ringo-ism, “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

Take One featured John playing a four-note melody on EMI studio’s 1965 Lowrey DSO-I Heritage Organ, Harrison playing a distorted tremolo electric guitar (one of three that he had in studio including his 1961 Fender Stratocaster with synchronized tremolo, his 1964 Gibson Maestro Vibrola vibrato, or his 1965 Epiphone ES-230TD Casino with Bigsby B7 vibrato, and finally, Starr on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set. Take One was recorded faster than the playback speed. Hammack tells us that when played at a normal speed, the music would sound “thicker and deeper.” (Hammack, 105) After Take One, there were two superimpositions added: Ringo added a second drum part, this time at the regular speed while John added his vocals, amplified through a Leslie speaker to give them a “flange-like distortion.” (Hammack, 106)

Then, Lennon asked to do another take that would provide a completely different backing track for “Mark I.” Take Two failed, but Take Three featured Starr on drums (“heavy backbeat,” Hammack tells us) and McCartney on his 1964 Rickenbacker 4001S. Take Three was selected to receive further attention as “best.” (Hammack, 106)

Second Date Recorded: Thursday, 7 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Three

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 7.15 p.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald

(Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 70 and Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 105)

On this day: The Beatles returned to studio to complete additional work on Take Three of “Mark I.” Both John and Ringo had supplied “tape loops” for the recording on April 6, but now Paul and George arrived with loops as well. George Martin listened to all of the tape loops and selected 16 to use on the recording. Then, with the help of The Beatles, this selection was narrowed down again to only five loops. (See the “What’s Changed” segment of this blog for a thorough discussion of “tape loops.”) Recording the tape loops (a highly tedious process) was the work of this day. (Hammack, 107)

Also, on this second day of work, John recorded a second vocal without the Leslie effect. This would be used in the first 87 seconds of the completed song. (Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 106 and Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

Third Date Recorded: Friday, 22 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time: 2.30 p.m. – 11.30 p.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72 and Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 107)

On this day: The Beatles returned to Studio Two for the last session of superimpositions onto Take Three of “Mark I.” Lennon double-tracked his vocals from 7 April and then decided to replace the back-half of the original vocals from the 7 April session with a brand-new performance. This time, Lennon’s voice was run through the Leslie 122 speaker. (Note: This starts 87 seconds into the song. Lewisohn tells us that prior to this time mark, Lennon’s voice “was just treated with ADT,” Artificial Double Tracking. (The Beatles Recording Sessions, p. 72)

George Harrison added sitar work and a performance on the tambura, a very cumbersome “Indian four or five-stringed droning instrument” (Hammack, 107). McCartney added a backwards lead guitar riff (played on the Epiphone Casino) and Starr added tambourine. McCartney also added piano work on EMI’s 1905 Steinway upright piano. One of The Beatles (or perhaps George Martin) supplied some work on organ as well.

This very complicated, highly layered song was at last completed. Mixing work would follow.

Sources:

Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 70-72, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 216-217, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 225 and 228, Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere, 111-113, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 105-108, The Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, 209-210, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 106-111, Womack, Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, 31-34, Harry, The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, 652, Harry, The John Lennon Encyclopedia, 911-912, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 228 and 239, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 7-8, Gould, Can’t Buy Me Love, 317-320, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 216-217, Turner, Beatles ’66, 134-147, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 115-116, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 352-355, Pascal, Ed. The Beatles: The Fabulous Story of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, 3, Riley, Tell Me Why, 199-201, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 148-153, Spizer, The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, 222-223, Everett, The Beatles as Musicians, Revolver Through Anthology, 34-38, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 176-178, Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs, 130-132, and Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 81-82.

What’s Changed:

Individual Composition vs. Collaboration – Many of The Beatles’ songs on 1965’s Rubber Soul had been the result of teamwork. Regularly, Paul had motored out to Kenwood where, after lunch, John and Paul would work on the songs together. (This is very much the case with “Drive My Car” and “Michelle,” for example.) But in The Fabulous Story of John, Paul, George and Ringo, we are told that by the spring of 1966 and the advent of Revolver, “the two writers were progressing along divergent paths.” (p. 30)

This holds true in the creation of “Tomorrow Never Knows,” one of the earliest compositions completed for Revolver. John had the multifaceted song ready to record by the first week of April 1966, after working on it for several months in his new third-floor Kenwood home studio. (Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 225) In fact, in Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, Womack tells us that “a few days before [The Beatles’] April 6 recording session, [John] premiered his new song for Martin and McCartney at Brian Epstein’s Belgravia home during a planning session for their new long-player.” (p. 32)

By 1966, the days of shoulder-to-shoulder collaborations were gradually coming to an end. But when one of the boys created something unusual or fantastic, the others were inspired to participate.

In Here, There and Everywhere, Geoff Emerick tells us that in late 1965 or early 1966, “…all four Beatles…had gone out and bought themselves open reel tape recorders… [and] they conducted sonic experiments in their respective homes. They would often bring in bits of tape and say, ‘Listen to this!’ as they tried to outdo one another in a de facto ‘weird sound’ contest.” (p. 111) And even though most of the compositions for Revolver were the product of individual experimentation, a song like “Tomorrow Never Knows” inspired collaborative creative efforts. This collaboration occurred in the studio, as The Beatles supplied their own individually created pieces as a way to “come together.”

We all know that John wrote the lyrics and music for “Tomorrow Never Knows,” and he explained in lavish detail the “aura” that he sought for the song. Then, John and Ringo showcased a recording of loop effects that they had created for the new track. (Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere, 111)

Emerick says that, “Paul [then] sat up all night composing a whole series of short tape loops for the song…an extraordinary collection of bizarre sounds…” (p. 111-112) And George Harrison created loops as well. (Hammack, 106) Upon hearing this collection of oddities, “George Martin and [Emerick] huddled over the console,” playing the various loops, “raising and lowering faders to shouted instructions from John, Paul, George, and Ringo.”(p. 112)

Several weeks later, Emerick tells us, “George Harrison showed up with the tamboura…Harrison…said that the tamboura drone would be the perfect complement to John’s song, and he was right.” (p. 112-113) Clearly, The Beatles worked together as a team to perfect “Tomorrow Never Knows,” and the result was a “grand finale” that left listeners wide-eyed over the artistic, groundbreaking record.

The Use of Tape Loops – In his Beatles Recording Reference Manual, 2, Jerry Hammack observes that in 1966, “The Beatles…having conquered the world of pop music…had earned the opportunity to do whatever they wanted.” (p. 105) And with their very first song recorded for Revolver, they did precisely that. One of the newest and most exciting of their innovative techniques involved the creation and application of tape loops.

In The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, Barry Miles reports that during the first week of January 1966, “John installed a home studio at Kenwood, and over the next months he experimented with creating many avant garde sounds, plus one-man demos of his new compositions.” (p. 225) One of the novelties that most fascinated John was the tape loop. John explained the creation of a loop in this way: “Paul and I are very keen on electronic music. You make it clinking a couple of glasses together, or with bleeps from the radio, then you loop the tape so that it repeats the same noises at intervals. Some people build up whole symphonies from it.” (p. 228)

Jerry Hammack, in The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, gives a more technical explanation of tape loops: “Tape loops are short segments of audiotape containing previously recorded sounds that are connected in a continuous loop at the top and tail of the tape. The repetition of the ‘loop’ creates an audio pattern, the duration determined by the length of the tape.” (p. 106) Hammack goes on to say that the sound effects in this song “were all created in this manner.” (p. 106) Indeed, in Tell Me Why, Riley describes the tape loops in “Tomorrow Never Knows” as “…noises, backwards guitars, and eerie bird sounds swoop[ing] all around [The Beatles]. The swirls of motion are the product of…tape loops mixed randomly together for a blizzard effect…” (p. 199)

Each of The Beatles contributed to the 20 tape loops that were presented to George Martin who selected 16 as viable. Then together, The Beatles and Martin narrowed the choices down to five. (Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 107) Hammack tells us that the five chosen loops were: “McCartney’s laughter, sped up and sounding like a seagull; a B-flat major orchestral chord from a Jan Sibelius recording; two sitar parts, played backwards; and miscellaneous Mellotron sounds.” (Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 107) These unique sounds helped to create the signature other-worldly effect of “Tomorrow Never Knows.”

***Our discussion of tape loops on “Tomorrow Never Knows” is far from comprehensive. I highly recommend the discussion of “Tomorrow Never Knows” in Robert Rodriguez’s work Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, pp. 106-111.

A Song About Life After Death or The Best Way to Experience LSD – The Beatles had written and/or sung about myriad topics including love, money, fame, deception, betrayal, anger, dancing, boys, and girls, but they had never tackled the miles-from-Chuck-Berry topic of life-after-death…or, as others suggest, the best way to experience LSD. John’s willingness to approach these weighty topics and Martin’s willingness to place “Tomorrow Never Knows” as the concluding song on the new Beatles’ LP demonstrated a vast shift in who The Beatles were in 1966 and who they would become in the years ahead.

If you view this song as a guidebook to life after death, then Spignesi and Lewis’s summary of Lennon’s thesis applies: “In ‘Tomorrow Never Knows,’ John offers departed souls two choices. The first is to become one with the void and escape the cycle of life and death and rebirth; the second, to continue on, be reborn, and ‘play the game ‘existence’ to the end.’” (p. 130) A serious focus on death and its implications had been central to John’s life since the 1955 loss of his Uncle George (his truest father figure), the tragic loss of his mother, Julia, in 1958, and the loss of his soul mate, Stu Sutcliffe, in 1962. Thoughts of death were never far from John’s mind. So, certainly, this may be one element of the song.

However, in 1965, John was reading Timothy Leary, Richard Alpert, and Ralph Metzner’s The Psychedelic Experience (which offered a loosely translated presentation of Leary’s philosophies based on Leary’s interpretation of The Tibetan Book of the Dead). In Part Two of The Psychedelic Experience, Leary and his co-authors offer “a user’s manual for an acid trip,” (Gould, 319) and the advice given in this part of the book spoke to John, who had found LSD to be revelatory. Somewhat echoing Leary – though, as Gould points out, John later refers to it as “that stupid book of Leary’s,” (Gould, p. 319) – John began to pen lyrics urging others to “release the ego” when experiencing the effects of LSD. Quoting Leary’s words, John offered his own guidebook for navigating the realm of LSD. Indeed, Womack reminds us that it was Leary, not Lennon, who first urged his readers to “turn off your mind, relax, float downstream.” (Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, 32)

Womack further proposes that Leary – and John – are talking about sublimating the ego as a “valuable means for preparing the acid-dropper to experience the life-altering throes of an LSD trip, which for many users, [George] Harrison included, took on death-like proportions.” (Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, p. 32)

However one interprets the lyrics of this first song recorded for Revolver, it is easy to see that things in the world of The Beatles had dramatically changed. Spizer, in The Beatles from Rubber Soul to Revolver, notes, “John had grown from ‘Love, love me do/You know I love you” to: ‘Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream/ It is not dying, it is not dying/ Lay down all thought, surrender to the void/ It is shining, it is shining.’” (p. 222)

Even the instruments that The Beatles selected to convey this mystical message were dramatically different: the tambura, sitar, mellotron, tambourine…and vocals transmitted through a Leslie speaker. For many fans, this new sound was incredible: “it [was] shining, it was shining.” But for others, the fab boys who had won their hearts with “I Want to Hold Your Hand” had been replaced by strange, unrecognizable artists.

A Preponderance of “Firsts” – There are so many “firsts” surrounding “Tomorrow Never Knows.” John himself said it is his first psychedelic song. It’s the first song in which a Leslie speaker is used to modulate the sound of a human voice. (Spignesi and Lewis, 130) We’ve already discussed tape loops. And this is the first Beatles song which does not include the title in the lyrics. Once this traditional barrier was swept aside, many others like it would follow: “A Day in the Life,” “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite,” “Yer Blues,” “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill,” and “The Inner Light.” Rubber Soul was an innovative LP, but Revolver was a complete transformation.

NEXT MONTH: Robert Rodriguez will have “the last word” on Revolver.

Revolver Deep Dive Part 13: Got To Get You Into My Life

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Revolver

Side Two, Track Six

“Got to Get You Into My Life,” An Ode To Pot

by Jude Southerland Kessler and Dr. Kit O’Toole

This month, the Fest for Beatles Fans Blog takes an in-depth look at Revolver’s “Got To Get You Into My Life.” Jude Southerland Kessler, our Fest Blogger and author of The John Lennon Series, pairs up with Dr. Kit O’Toole, author of Songs We Were Singing: Guided Tours Through the Beatles Lesser-Known Tracks and Michael Jackson FAQ: All That’s Left to Know about The King of Pop. O’Toole is also the co-author – with Dr. Kenneth Womack – of The Beatles and Fandom.

Besides being the co-host of the very popular Beatles solo podcast “Talk More Talk,” along with Ken Michaels, Kenneth Womack, Tom Hunyady, and Joe Mayo and co-host of “Toppermost of the Poppermost” with Ed Chen and Martin Quibell, Kit serves as Associate Editor for Beatlefan magazine. She contributes to many distinguished Beatles and music publications including Goldmine magazine, “Something Else Reviews” and “Blinded by Sound.” For years, Kit was a sought-after speaker at Beatles at the Ridge Authors and Artists Symposium, and in 2016, she was a Guest Speaker at the GRAMMY Museum of Mississippi Beatles Symposium. Most of all, Kit has long been a respected member of our Fest Family, taking part in numerous panels each year in Chicago and New Jersey. We are delighted to have her share her insights on “Got To Get You Into My Life” in the “Fresh New Look” segment of the blog.

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 7 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Three

Time Recorded: Evening Session from 8.15 p.m. – 1.30 a.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

On this day: The Beatles had spent the afternoon and early part of the evening working on John’s “Tomorrow Never Knows.” At 8.15 p.m., however, they turned their attention to Paul’s new song, “Got to Get You Into My Life,” capturing 5 takes. Take One was a rhythm track with a one-note organ intro performed by George Martin, enhanced by Ringo on hi-hat. At this point, Paul seemed to be creating an acoustic number, a love song. Indeed, Paul’s bluesy outro was: “Got to get you into my life, somehow, someway,” with John and George responding: “I need your love.” By Take Five, this new love song had an organ introduction and was accompanied by full drums. As the evening ended, this take was marked as “best.” (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

Second Date Recorded: 8 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 9.00 p.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

Since the “best” take (Take Eight) from 8 April is the one used for future superimpositions leading to the final product, the instruments that were used on this day are noted. In The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Hammack states that they were:

McCartney: 1964 Rickenbacker 4001S bass

Lennon: Vox organ (adds acoustic guitar on 11 April)

Harrison: one of the three guitars available in April 1966, including his 1961 Fender Stratocaster, 1964 Gibson SG Standard, or 1965 Epiphone ES-230TD, Casino

Starr: Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set

On this day: The Beatles tackled Paul’s new song again, slowing it down a bit to perfect the rhythm track. Winn in That Magic Feeling tells us that this version was “a slightly different arrangement.” Three more takes were attempted, and the last, Take Eight, was dubbed “best.”

Third Date Recorded: 11 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time: 2.30 p.m. – 7.00 p.m. (Time supplied by Lewisohn in The Beatles Recording Sessions)

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

On this day: According to Hammack in The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, The Beatles returned to Studio Two to work on superimpositions for “Got to Get You Into My Life.” Hammack says, “McCartney added another bass to the song while Harrison added more guitar, and Lennon added more acoustic guitar using his 1965 Gibson Jumbo J-160E.”

Fourth Date Recorded: 18 May 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 2.30 a.m.

Technical Team

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72)

On this day: In a 12-hour studio session, “Got to Get You Into My Life” was completed. The vocals were overdubbed and extra instruments were added. But then, the song was dramatically altered. In Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, Womack tells us that “during the May 18 session, ‘Got to Get You Into My Life’ took a hard left turn from British pop fare into the world of American Motown…” (p. 79)

However, the product of this hard day’s night wasn’t a standard Motown or Stax song. Instead, Paul featured a brass blast, a front-and-center horn section. He composed a catchy big-band line, and as five gifted brass musicians looked on, Paul sat at the piano, demonstrating the notes he wanted them to play. As the quintet attempted to capture this sound, John listened from the booth, running out with a ”thumbs up” and vociferous “Got it!” when the sound was just right. And George offered input as well. Only Ringo, (we are told by Lewisohn) “was playing draughts in the corner.” (The Beatles Recording Sessions, 79) It was a Beatles group effort to create something very distinctive.

Sources:

Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 72, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 217, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 109-112, The Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, 209, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 111-113, Womack, Long and Winding Roads, 146, Womack, Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, 79-80, Harry, The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, 272, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 228-229 and 239, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 23, Gould, Can’t Buy Me Love, 363-364, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 216, Turner, Beatles ’66, 146-147, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 115, Turner, Beatles ’66, 260 and 261, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 26, 40, 44, 252 and 350-351, Riley, Tell Me Why, 197-199, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 154, Spizer, The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, 222, Everett, The Beatles as Musicians, Revolver Through Anthology, 38-39, Robustelli, I Want to Tell You, 49 and 63, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 176, Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs, 95, and Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 80-81.

What’s Changed:

“An Ode to Pot” – Paul makes no bones about it: this song lauds the experience that produces “another kind of mind.” It’s a song about cannabis. This will be discussed in depth by Dr. Kit O’Toole in her “Fresh, New Look” segment, but failing to mention this theme here as a “changed” scenario in The Beatles’ catalog would be remiss.

John alludes to drug usage in “Dr. Robert” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” (the latter song will be discussed in next month’s Fest Blog), but this “ode to pot” is a first for Paul. (Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 176 and Spizer, The Beatles Rubber Soul to Revolver, 222) After initially disguising his subject matter with the trappings of a standard love song, McCartney eventually stripped away that façade and sang honestly about his enthusiasm for the inspiring effects of marijuana.

A Motown/Jazz/Rhythm and Blues Number – By 1966, The Beatles had sampled myriad musical instruments: hand claps, maracas, harmonicas, tambourines, bongos, celestas, tape loops, a sitar, a Hammond organ, a sped-up piano that resembled a harpsichord or tack piano, and even a sweater stuffed inside the bass drum to produce a unique effect. In the summer of 1965, “Yesterday” had even featured an orchestral arrangement. Indeed, the desire to give listeners “something new” never diminished with John, Paul, George and Ringo. And as Spignesi and Lewis point out, “The Beatles were constantly pushing the envelope, testing their fans to see what they could get away with.” (100 Best Beatles Songs, p. 95)

Here, Paul does showcase “soul-style horns” that were inspired by “Memphis soul,” Atlantic Records, and Motown. Then, he added forcefully delivered lyrics that transformed the song into what Robert Rodriguez referred to as “an R&B-styled shouter, complete with the brass and production that Paul may have had in mind back when the band was still contemplating recording at Stax.” (Revolver, How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 111) In our “Fresh, New Look” segment, Kit will discuss the Stax/Motown influence in much greater detail. But it’s worthy of a mention in our “What’s Changed” segment that this sound was quite different from anything the boys had offered up previously.

Years later, one of the brass musicians, Peter Coe, recalled that, “The Beatles wanted a definite jazz feel.” But another musician, Les Condon stated: “The tune was a rhythm and blues sort of thing.” McCartney’s song combined elements from several genres, making it (in the words of Condon) both “interesting and unusual.” “Got to Get You Into My Life” was not a mere copy of anything – not the Memphis, Atlantic, or Detroit sound.

The Use of “Outside” Musicians – Since George Martin’s early “wind-up piano” contribution to “Misery,” the Guildhall School trained musician had frequently contributed to Beatles arrangements and performances. But apart from the use of a studio drummer in the very early days, recruiting outside musicians to participate on Beatles recordings was a relatively new practice.[i] It dated back to June of 1965, when George Martin had convinced a very reluctant McCartney to permit a string quartet to supply the orchestration for “Yesterday.” (Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 252) In the spring of 1966 – welcoming outside performers to the collective was a still a rather bold decision.

The five gifted horn players recruited to perform on “Got to Get You Into My Life” were Eddie “Tan Tan” Thornton (trumpet) and Peter Coe (sax) – both of whom who hailed from Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames – Ian Hamer (from Liverpool, trumpet), Les Condon (trumpet), and Alan Branscombe (sax). (Rodriguez, Revolver, How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 112 and Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 79). Kit will discuss the contributions of Motown in the “Fresh New Look” segment, but the performance of these five musicians on this track certainly added that Memphis soul flair as well. They also unwittingly insured that “Got to Get You Into My Life” could never be performed on stage by the Fab Four. Paul could successfully perform “Yesterday,” without orchestration, but “Got to Get You Into My Life” was a Beatles track that could not be replicated by John, Paul, George, and Ringo alone.

However, afterwards, all four boys agreed that the end justified the means. Only four weeks after “Got to Get You Into My Life” was recorded, Paul permitted Alan Civil to add his elegant French horn to “For No One.” The way had been paved for later contributions by other “non-Beatle” musicians (Eric Clapton and Billy Preston, for example) to enhance the boys’ repertoire.

(Note: Paul often performed “Got to Get You Into My Life” with Wings in 1979. He used a four-piece brass section. WATCH HERE

Diverse Reception – The reactions to this uncommon Beatles genre have been, through the decades, quite strong and diverse. Ian MacDonald in Revolution in the Head states, “Slightly out of his neighbourhood in this idiom, McCartney seems to have no idea how he wanted the song done, and it took two days of trial and errors to record the basic track…Leaving it for a month, he hired the brass…By this time, the production had become messy, with raggedly matched lead vocals and leakage from the brass onto one of the guitar tracks.” (p. 154) Similarly, Gould in Can’t Buy Me Love comments: “Revolver abounds in songs that were brought to life in the studio: this one was nearly done to death there…overshooting the idiom of soul music entirely, landing closer to the sophistication of big-band jazz at its blandest.” (p. 363)

However, Walter Everett in The Beatles as Musicians observes, “‘Got to Get You Into My Life’ has always been one of the LP’s most popular tracks; it rose to the Top Ten in July-August 1976 when Capitol released it as a single in support of a compilation LP.” (p. 39) Tim Riley in Tell Me Why says, “The vigorous horns, pulsating bass, knockabout drumming, and above all, the untamed Wilson Pickett vocalisms in the refrain echo the charged brilliance of the Motown and Atlantic labels…” (p. 198) And John Lennon, who quite liked the song, said, “I think that was one of [Paul’s] best songs, too, because the lyrics are good, and I didn’t write them.” (Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 228)

A Fresh, New Look:

We welcome our friend Dr. Kit O’Toole to the Fest Blog! At the recent Chicago Fest, Kit participated in a wide range of scholarly panels including “The Beatles Academic Panel (co-moderator with Ken Womack),” “Generations Panel,” “Media Panel (moderator),” “Toppermost of the Poppermost (co-host),” “Historians Panel: Yesterday IS Today,” and of course, the “Talk More Talk” panel on the topic “Wrack Our Brains.” Kit possesses expertise in music through the ages (from 1950 to today and from pop to classical) and an extensive knowledge of The Beatles. I’m looking forward to her “Fresh, New Look” at Paul’s “Got to Get You Into My Life.”

Jude Southerland Kessler: Kit, thanks so much for joining us for this month’s “Fresh, New Look” at Revolver’s “Got to Get You Into My Life.” If I’m not mistaken, this is one of your favorite tracks on the LP. Tell us (to paraphrase Ringo in Help!), “What first attracted you to this song?”

Dr. Kit O’Toole: I’m a huge fan of soul and R&B, as were The Beatles, so “Got to Get You into My Life” is right up my alley! One of my other favorite bands, Earth, Wind & Fire, covered the track years later, and I think it’s one of the best Beatles covers of all time. “Life” encapsulates everything I love about the band—their ability to take on a genre but make it entirely their own. They never simply copied a particular style—they incorporated their signature lyrics, voices, and instrumentation to create something new.

Kessler: In Ken Womack’s Long and Winding Roads, he points out that “Got to Get You Into My Life” “brilliantly captures the sound of Motown, especially the flavor of Supremes hits such as ‘Baby Love’ and ‘Where Did Our Love Go.’” (p. 146) Do you hear this, and if so, how do McCartney and The Beatles create the Motown overtones?

O’Toole: First, it cannot be overemphasized just how much Motown influenced The Beatles. As we know, Merseybeat groups were devouring American R&B as early as the late 1950s—Berry Gordy founded Motown in 1959, and he struck a deal with Decca’s London American imprint to distribute music in the UK (until Motown finally released music under their own label in 1965). Ringo Starr stated in the Anthology documentary that “when I joined The Beatles we didn’t really know each other, but if you looked at each of our record collections, the four of us had virtually the same records. We all had The Miracles, we all had Barrett Strong and people like that. I supposed that helped us gel as musicians, and as a group.”

The Beatles covered Motown tracks—on radio, at least—as early as 1962, when they performed “Please Mr. Postman” on the BBC show “Teenager’s Turn—Here We Go.” It marked not only The Beatles’ radio debut, but the first time any Motown track was aired on the BBC. That performance enabled Gordy to negotiate better UK distribution deals, as the Beatles essentially introduced the sound to the larger British public. As we know, the band would go on to cover “Money,” “You Really Got a Hold on Me,” and, of course, “Please Mr. Postman,” all for With the Beatles.

In Gordy’s autobiography To Be Loved, he recalled finally meeting The Beatles during a 1965 Motown Revue package tour. “While taking photographs together, I told them how thrilled I was with the way they did our three songs in their second album,” Berry wrote. “They told me what Motown music had meant to them and how much they loved Smokey’s writing, James Jamerson’s bass playing and the big drum sound of Benny Benjamin” (p. 210).

Indeed, Jamerson in particular played a huge role in Paul’s bass playing. As he learned the instrument, he listened to the melodic bass lines of Jamerson, even though Paul didn’t even know his name for many years. His jazz-influenced playing and distinctive bass lines in tracks such as the Temptations’ “My Girl” expanded the possibilities for bass players, teaching Paul to avoid stagnant, clichéd lines (for examples of Jamerson’s inventiveness, listen to Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” or the Four Tops’ “Standing in the Shadows of Love”).

Smokey Robinson and the Miracles were another influence, as demonstrated in Please Please Me’s “Ask Me Why.” From John Lennon’s falsetto to the backing vocals to the dramatic bridge (“I can’t believe it’s happened to me / I can’t conceive of any more misery”), Robinson and the Miracles’ style resonates through the track. As George Martin stated in the Anthology companion book, “In the early days they were very influenced by American rhythm-and-blues . . . They certainly knew much more about Motown about black music than anybody else did, and that was a tremendous influence on them” (p.194). The Beatles would prove it with the B-side of the “I Want to Hold Your Hand” single, “This Boy,” a close-harmony track which Harrison described as ”a song John did that was very much influenced by Smokey . . . If you listen to the middle eight of ‘This Boy,’ it was John trying to do Smokey,” he told Timothy White in his George Harrison Reconsidered interview (p. 23).

Fast-forward to 1966, and the Motown influence continued. For his “Paperback Writer,” Paul wanted a particular sound. “I need you to put your thinking cap on,” Paul told Geoff Emerick, according to the memoir Here, There, and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles. “This song is really calling out for that deep Motown bass sound we’ve been talking about, so I want you to pull out all the stops this time.” (p.114) According to Emerick, Paul was obsessed with the deep bass sound of Motown records and frequently challenged Emerick to duplicate that sound in Beatles recordings.

This brings us to “Life.” In a 1968, Rolling Stone interview with Jonathan Cott, John Lennon described it as “our Tamla Motown bit. You see, we’re influenced by whatever’s going. Even if we’re not influenced, we’re all going that way at a certain time.” The horns, the lush production—all reflected Motown at its best. Obviously, there were differences—to make the horns sound bigger, Emerick close-miked the instruments, applied severe limiting to the sound, then came up with the idea of “dubbing the horn track onto a fresh piece of two-track tape, then playing it back alongside the multitrack, just slightly out of sync” to create the effect of ten horns playing instead of five (Here, There, and Everywhere, p. 128).

The close-miking and double-tracking effect lent the horns a “dirtier” sound than a typical Motown production, but Paul’s cooing “oohs” recall a breezy Supremes vocal, the driving bass a touch of soul, and just the presence of horns a nod to the Funk Brothers. The growl behind Paul’s utterance of “Got to get you into my life!” may be a tip of the hat to Marvin Gaye. Overall, it demonstrates how The Beatles absorbed all the Motown records they had heard, put them in a blender with their own sound, and created a unique, infectious track.

Kessler: Every essay on “Got to Get You Into My Life” heralds George Harrison’s lead solo on his Sonic Blue Fender Stratocaster. John C. Winn in That Magic Feeling refers to it as “a brief but thrilling guitar solo” (p. 26) and Riley in Tell Me Why asserts, “This could well be George’s finest moment: the sound of his guitar is dazzling…” Tell us more about Harrison’s solo and how this remarkable sound was achieved.

O’Toole: In 2021, Guitar World magazine asked some of the world’s most respected guitarists to cite some of their favorite George Harrison guitar solos. David Grissom, who has played with such artists as John Mellencamp, the Chicks, and the Allman Brothers, cited “Life” as one of George’s best. “It was this song that started my infatuation with guitar,” Grissom said. “The lick that happens at 1:50 still gives me goosebumps. That Vox midrange and George’s soulful double stop bend on the second and fourth strings are as good as it gets.”

What Grissom describes is the fuzzy, distorted sound of George’s guitar and the piercing solo, and the bending of the notes during his solo. In contrast with the brassiness of the trumpets, these elements give a harder rock edge to the track. “Life” exemplifies “rhythm and blues” in every sense of the word—George’s riff and gritty guitar solo perpetuates the rhythm, offering a sharper, driving companion to the bright horns. The Beatles and George Martin could have easily stuck to the pure soul sound, but adding the crunchy-sounding guitar was a stroke of genius.

Kessler: Finally, you were the person who first alerted me to the fact that this song is (as Paul said in Miles’s book McCartney) “an ode to pot.” I always thought it was a love song. How did Paul reshape his original lyrics to tailor them to this unique subject matter?

O’Toole: In discussing the song with Barry Miles in Many Years from Now, Paul stated that he wrote “Life” when he was first introduced to pot. He found it easier to tolerate than alcohol and called it “mind-expanding” (190). The song, he added, is “not to a person, it’s actually about pot. It’s saying, I’m going to do this. This is not a bad idea. So, it’s actually an ode to pot, like someone else might write an ode to chocolate or a good claret” (190).

More recently, in The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present, Paul reiterated that when writing the song, he consciously wrote lyrics addressing his newfound love of marijuana. He cited the specific lyrics “I was alone, I took a ride / I didn’t know what I would find there” as representing the “joyous” and “sunny-day-in-the-garden” experience of the time (p. 1954). Indeed, an ode to pot would prove too controversial for mainstream audiences, so Paul composed lines that could be interpreted as being in an altered state romantically or chemically.

Upon first listen it sounds like a bouncy love song, but a closer analysis of the lyrics reveals something else beneath the surface. The narrator, alone, seems to enjoy a car ride. But here’s the key line: “Another road where maybe I could see another kind of mind there.” This is a ride of another sort: a journey of the mind, a hallucinogenic ride. The horn blasts represent joy, a high of a sort. After this experience, he wants the experience “every single day” of his life. Next, he personifies pot, claiming that unlike others “you didn’t run, you didn’t hide,” and he wants to hold not only the pot itself but the hallucinogenic experience. “You were meant to be near me,” he declares, and reiterates that they will be together every day (note that the beloved never speaks, the narrator says he wants it to hear him).

The next verse again suggests that the narrator is in love with an experience, not necessarily a person: “When I’m with you I want to stay there / If I’m true I’ll never leave / And If I do I know the way there.” In other words, he’s reluctant to return to the “real world,” instead lingering in this dream state. As the song ends, however, he reprises the opening lines about taking a ride and “suddenly seeing” his beloved — or, as Paul later clarified, marijuana. In other words, he knows he can re-experience the high any time he wishes to escape. What an interesting choice to use the language of soul music to express his desire for pot!

Kessler: So interesting! Thank you, Kit, for your insights, and for those of you who haven’t yet enjoyed Kit’s book Songs We Were Singing: Guided Tours Through the Beatles Lesser-Known Tracks, this is the sort of excellent information you can expect for each of the “umplumbed” songs she discusses. Kit, thanks very much for being with us for The Fest Blog this month, and we’ll see you in March for our big New York Metro Fest.

For more information on Dr. Kit O’Toole, HEAD HERE

Connect with Kit on Facebook HERE

Follow her on Instagram HERE

Come meet Kit and Jude in person at the

New York Metro Fest for Beatles Fans

March 28-30, 2025 at the Hyatt Regency Jersey City

[i] Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 40 and 44 and Robustelli, I Want to Tell You, 49 and 63. According to Robustelli, session musician Andy White did play drums on version 3 of “Love Me Do” (Margotin and Guesdon say version 2) and drums on “P.S. I Love You,” (Margotin and Guesdon say bongos) but this was not a group decision but rather the decision of George Martin. A studio drummer was also used once to perform fills during the making of “A Hard Day’s Night” in 1964 when the boys were too busy to return to studio. But once again, this was not the decision of John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

Revolver Deep Dive Part 12: I Want To Tell You

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Side Two, Track Five

“I Want to Tell You” said George…and Anthony!

by Jude Southerland Kessler and Anthony Robustelli

This month, the Fest for Beatles Fans Blog takes an in-depth look at Revolver’s “I Want to Tell You.” Jude Southerland Kessler, our Fest Blogger and author of The John Lennon Series works hand-in-hand with Anthony Robustelli, author of (wait for it…) I Want to Tell You, The Definitive Guide to the Music of The Beatles, Vol. 1, 1962-1963. Who better to give us a “Fresh, New Perspective” on George’s third song on this pivotal LP than Anthony? He wrote the book!

Anthony holds a degree in music from NYU, and since 1996, he has run his own successful recording studio, Shady Bear Productions. Also, as a sought-after stage musician, Anthony has performed with Gloria Gaynor, Bo Diddley, Michael Franti & Spearhead, and many more. In 2022, he opened for Sir Paul McCartney at the Glastonbury Festival. Wow! We are very honored to have Anthony – a frequent Guest Author at the Fest for Beatles Fans – take time out from his crazy-busy schedule to share with us!

And… we can’t wait to see each and every one of you at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare for the Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans, August 9-11! The lineup is too good to miss! Get your tickets and get ready for the time of your life!

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 2 June 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: Early in the session, which ran from 7.00 p.m. to 3.30 a.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 74)

On this day: The Beatles did five takes to capture the backing track. Take 3 was selected as “best.” The track featured George Harrison (the composer and lead singer) on one of three guitars that he had in studio: either his 1961 Fender Stratocaster, his 1964 Gibson SG Standard, or his 1965 Epiphone ES-230-TD, Casino. Paul McCartney played the studio’s Steinway “Music Room” Model “B” Grand Piano, and Ringo Starr was on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set. John Lennon sang backing vocals with Paul McCartney; these were added in superimposition, as was a piano part by McCartney. One of The Beatles (some sources designate John; others say Ringo) added a superimposed maracas part. After a tape reduction remix, dubbed Take 4 (regardless of the fact that a Take 4 already existed), handclaps were added onto the new Take 4.*

Second Date Recorded: 3 June 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: Early in the session which ran from 7.00 p.m. to 2.00 a.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 82)

On this day: Paul McCartney’s bass line (played on his Rickenbacker 4001S) was superimposed onto the new Take 4. This completed The Beatles’ work on the song.*

*From Hammack’s The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 144-146.

Sources:

Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 81-82, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 224, The Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, 209, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 66 and 68, Womack, The Beatles Encyclopedia, Vol. 1, Womack, Long and Winding Roads, 145, Harry, The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, 334, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 23, Gould, Can’t Buy Me Love, 362-363, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215-216, Turner, Beatles ’66, 157-159, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 115, Turner, Beatles ’66, 260 and 261, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 346-347, Riley, Tell Me Why, 196-197, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 166, O’Toole, Songs We Were Singing, 111-112, 231, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 144-146, Spizer, The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, 221, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 232 and 239, Everett, The Beatles as Musicians, Revolver Through Anthology, 57-58, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 174-175, Hertsgaard, A Day In the Life: The Music and Artistry of The Beatles, 187-188, and Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 79-80.

What’s Changed:

Separate Bass Overdub – On 3 June, 1966, Paul’s bass overdub on the Rickenbaker 4001S was done separately from the other instruments. Paul had overdubbed his bass previously. For example, on 10 November 1965 he added the bass as a superimposition for “The Word,” but the bass was not added individually. In The Beatles Recording Sessions, Mark Lewisohn states, “It was, for the first time on a Beatles recording, a bass guitar superimposition only.” (p. 82) Lewisohn points out that this “afford[ed] it a vacant track on the four-track tape, [which] allowed a greater dexterity with the sound in the re-mix.” In The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, Spizer goes on to say that this practice also “enabled [Paul] to come up with [a] more melodic bass line…” (p. 203) Lewisohn notes that this technique is something “that would become more commonplace during and after 1967.” (Beatles Recording Sessions, p. 82)

Time Constraints – The 2 June recording of the rhythm track for “I Want to Tell You” was completed efficiently. In fact, Lewisohn refers to it as: “A quick recording.” (The Beatles Recording Sessions, 81)

Then, Lewisohn quotes Geoff Emerick as saying: “One really got the impression that George was being given a certain amount of time to do his tracks whereas the others could spend as long as they wanted. One felt under more pressure when doing one of George’s songs.” Although Geroge was given three songs on Revolver rather than his customary one (or two, at best), the amount of time allotted for recording and re-recording was not as lavishly spent on Harrison’s number as it was on Lennon and McCartney’s. George was, as Emerick himself observes, expected to “Turn to!” (Meaning, get to work.) Perhaps (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) that is one motivation behind the 129 times that George recorded and re-recorded “Not Guilty” for the Esher Demos.

Although George was not always treated equitably, Robert Rodriguez in Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, points out that, “Though it would be a long time before his senior Beatle partners would come to regard [George] as anything approaching an equal, proximity to the two masters accelerated the learning curve.” (p. 66) As proof of that extraordinary growth, Rodriguez points to the “thematic complexity” of “I Want to Tell You” (which we will discuss below) and says it is “found nowhere else on the album. It marked George’s ascent to a world-class songwriter.” (p. 66)

Three Prelim Titles – By now, everyone realized that George Harrison struggled with song titles. In The Beatles Recording Sessions, Mark Lewisohn shares this fun bit of verbiage in Studio Two from 2 June, 1966:

Martin: What are you going to call it, George?

Harrison: [who doesn’t know] I don’t know!

John: Granny Smith Part Friggin’ Two! (To George) You never had a title for any of your songs!

To which, Geoff Emerick suggests another British apple, “Laxton’s Superb.” (p. 81)

By 3 June, Harrison’s song title had morphed from “Laxton’s Superb” to “I Don’t Know.” Then, at the end of the evening, it became “I Want to Tell You.” Three titles for a Harrison number. A new record had been set!

More on the apple-themed titles from Anthony Robustelli in the “Fresh, New Look” segment.

Much-Debated Lyrics – When asked about the message of this song, George said, “‘I Want to Tell You’ is about the avalanche of thoughts that are so hard to write down or transmit.” And Beatles experts echo the composer’s intent, but add that other topics are in play as well. For example, Riley in Tell Me Why says, “This song shuns the modern anxieties with time and seeks exchange and the enlightened possibilities that lie outside fixed Western boundaries.” (p. 196) Womack in The Beatles Encyclopedia, Vol. 1 adds, “Clearly written with Eastern notions of karma in mind, ‘I Want to Tell You’ addresses the individual as the result of a set of totalizing, lived experiences.” (p. 434) And although Mellers repeats that Harrison’s theme is “the difficulty of communication,” he asserts that “I Want to Tell You” has “no Eastern connections.” (Twilight of the Gods, p. 79) Finally, Miles tells us that the song is about George’s “determinedly realistic view of relationships, in which failed communication was the order of the day.” (The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239) Miles goes on to say that “all of [George’s] portrayals of love were surrounded in misunderstanding and the dreadful prospect of boredom, and this was no exception.” (The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239)

Early Beatles songs from 1963 and 1964 focused on touching but simpler themes such as “I love you,” “She loves you,” “You love me,” and (in the case of “You’re Gonna Lose That Girl”) “You don’t love her enough.” Now, however, both fans and critics find themselves examining songs with complicated meanings and myriad interpretations. The exciting tracks on Revolver – and this Harrison composition in particular – offer layers of complex messages that would be debated for the next 60 years…thus far.

A Fresh, New Look:

We welcome our friend Anthony Robustelli to the Fest Blog for July! Besides being a frequent presenter at the Fest for Beatles Fans, I’ve also shared happy times with Anthony at Beatles at the Ridge and the GRAMMY Museum of Mississippi “Beatles Symposium.” With Anthony’s vast knowledge of music and recording techniques, I’m looking forward to his “Fresh, New Look” at George Harrison’s “I Want to Tell You.”

Jude Southerland Kessler: Anthony, thanks so much for taking time out from your studio, your own music, and your research for what I HOPE will soon be the new volume of your amazing book on ALL Beatles songs (both originals and covers), I Want to Tell You. Your work is so thorough that I know your answers here will give us all some new insights into this familiar 1966 song. So, with that in mind… George Harrison’s “I Want to Tell You” does not, at first glance, seem to exhibit as profound an Indian influence as does say “Love You To” or Sgt. Pepper’s “Within You, Without You.” But there are subtle touches both musically and lyrically that incorporate George Harrison’s passion/beliefs. Tell us about those, please.

Robustelli: While “I Want to Tell You,” doesn’t necessarily use Indian instruments, it conveys an Eastern feeling that is apparent in “Love You To” and later, on a grander scale, “Within You Without You.” Harrison’s vocal performance is full of bends reminiscent of the dilruba, a bowed Indian instrument later heard on “Within You, Without You.” He also makes good use of an odd number of measures (eleven to be precise) for the verse which keeps the listener off balance. Many believe that there’s a bar of 2/4 snuck in there at bar four, but Harrison just changes chords in the middle of the bar while “just confusing things.” Interestingly, McCartney also adds some of these elements to the song, as he did with his blistering Indian influenced guitar solo on “Taxman.” The piano phrase in bars six through nine highlight the flattened ninth of the E chord – quite a jarring development – and the melismas he sings on the outro are Eastern flavored. Even the fade out has a drone-like quality with McCartney’s bubbling bass that pedals underneath Harrison’s striking guitar riff.

Kessler: It’s interesting that in a song about how difficult it is to express one’s feelings, George looked back at the lyrics years later and said that he got the words wrong and would change them if he could. What did he want to change and why?

Robustelli: With his newfound interest in Eastern religion Harrison found himself at odds with the Western philosophy that often put financial success above spirituality. He was still having problems expressing himself with his lyrics, and the inability to communicate is the main focus of the song. He even had trouble naming his songs with “Love You To” having a working title of “Granny Smith,” named by engineer Geoff Emerick after his favorite apple. When it came time to record “I Want To Tell You” Harrison once again had no title, so Emerick decided to name it “Laxton’s Superb,” another type of apple. Harrison later stated that his new Eastern beliefs should have led him to change the lyrics to the first bridge in order to explain that rather than listen to a mind “that hops about telling us to do this or that – what we need to do is lose the mind.” When he toured Japan in 1991, he took his own advice and changed the line to “It isn’t me, it’s just my mind.” Even with the original lyric, Harrison was beginning to find his footing as a lyricist by using themes that were universal.

Kessler: Ted Nugent’s 1979 remake of “I Want to Tell You” is praised by Margotin and Guesdon in All the Songs as “a superb remake which tends to show that with more arrangements and more work what George’s song could have been.” Do you agree or disagree? Why?

Robustelli: Well, I’ve never been a fan of Ted Nugent, nor of his music, and I don’t think his cover added anything to the original. I don’t particularly like the lead guitar riffs or the fact that he adds a bar of 2/4 before the original dissonant piano phrase that begins on the E chord. While the original piano part is unexpected and swings in an inimitable way, in Nugent’s version this section is plodding and choppy. When we arrive at the middle section more horrors are in store as Nugent decides to only play a B minor chord, whereas Harrison’s original incorporates not only the B minor chord but a B diminished and a B7. These changes give the song its unstable nature and lead the ear to unexpected places, something Nugent’s version does not do. Follow this with a pedestrian guitar solo, and there really isn’t much to say of this tame, and lame, cover version of a fantastic Harrison song.

Kessler: Many music critics have said that this song was addressed to Pattie Boyd, but Riley quotes David Laing as noting that the song was meant, possibly, as a message between the artist and the audience. What say you?

Robustelli: While it could be looked at as a simple statement about his trouble expressing himself to his wife Pattie Boyd when they first met during the filming of A Hard Day’s Night two years earlier, it probably had a broader meaning. As you mentioned earlier, George stated in his 1980 book I Me Mine that “‘I Want To Tell You” is about the avalanche of thoughts that are so hard to write down or say or transmit.” But his original lyrics seem to stem from the more typical trope of being unable to express feelings to a love interest. The original lyrics, “Maybe love will be the one thing to get me by,” were replaced with “I don’t mind, I could wait forever, I’ve got time” and “If you should see me and need my love to pass the time” was changed to “So I could speak my mind and tell you maybe you’d understand.” The new lyrics are more sophisticated and lend an ambiguous air to a song that is musically dissonant and unsettled.

For more information on Anthony Robustelli’s work, HEAD HERE

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Revolver Deep Dive Part 11: Doctor Robert

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Side Two, Track Four

Calling ‘Dr. Robert’

by Jude Southerland Kessler and Steve Matteo

This month, the Fest for Beatles Fans Blog enjoys a closer look at Revolver’s “Dr. Robert.” Jude Southerland Kessler, our Fest Blogger and author of The John Lennon Series works hand-in-hand with Steve Matteo, author of Act Naturally: The Beatles on Film (2023), Let It Be, and Dylan to examine a Lennon song that has frequently been brushed aside as “a minor creation.” As Jude and Steve dig into the music and lyrics of this tongue-in-cheek creation, here’s hoping we all uncover some new insights into the story behind the song, the composition, and the recording techniques.

And we can’t wait to see each and every one of you at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare for the Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans, August 9-11! The lineup is too good to miss! Get your tickets and get ready for the time of your life!

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 17 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 10.30 p.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 74)

On this day: The Beatles recorded their backing track with John on his 1961 Fender Stratocaster electric guitar with synchronized tremolo (or possibly his Epiphone ES-230TD Casino electric guitar), Paul on his 1964 Rickenbacker 4001S bass (which he was using more and more frequently in studio, when he could sit down), George on maracas, and Ringo on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drums. As per their “now standard” method of recording, they first performed several rehearsal takes (not numbered) and then recorded seven actual takes, proclaiming seven as “best.”

Then, onto take 7, the boys made several superimpositions: John on the Mannborg harmonium (the studio’s), George on guitar,* and Paul on the studio’s Steinway “Music Room” Model “B” Grand Piano. (Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 123)

*I wrote to Jerry Hammack to ascertain which guitar George was using, and he graciously answered me: “George was working with a 1961 Fender Stratocaster with synchronized tremolo, 1964 Gibson SG Standard with Gibson Maestro Vibrola vibrato, or a 1965 Epiphone ES-230TD, Casino with Selmer Bigsby B7 vibrato during this period, and could have used any of these on his work. With this album and Pepper, the Casinos were certainly getting most of the attention.”

Hammack also tells us that at this point, “Dr. Robert” “…clocked in at 2:56” but “would be edited to 2:13 during remixing.” Sincere thanks to Jerry for helping with the Fest blog each month!

Second Date Recorded: 19 April 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 12.00 a.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 74)

On this day: Since most of the work on “Dr. Robert” had been completed on the 17^th, all that was left to do was capture the vocals from John and Paul…which they did. Later that same evening, a remix was done to thicken both those vocals and George’s guitar work.

Sources:

Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 75, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 218, The Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, 209, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 121-123, Womack, Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, 57, Harry, The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, 209, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 12, Gould, Can’t Buy Me Love, 361-362, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215, Turner, Beatles ’66, 157-159, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 114, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 344-345, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 173-174, Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs, 227-228, Riley, Tell Me Why, 194-196, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 158-159, O’Toole, Songs We Were Singing, 113-115, Womack, The Beatles Encyclopedia, 231, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 122-124, Spizer, The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, 221, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239, Shotton, John Lennon In My Life, 122, and Sheff, The Playboy Interviews (1981 edition), 152-153.

What’s Changed:

A Thinly-Veiled Reference to Drugs – For years, Brian had sternly admonished The Beatles to remain “palatable to the mothers and fathers of teens everywhere.” And as such, the boys had not felt free to express opinions on anything, especially when it came to politics or the Vietnam War. Furthermore, Brian had asked the boys to present “a wholesome image,” eschewing cigarettes at press conferences or photo shoots. And through most of 1963-1964, John, Paul, George, and Ringo had reluctantly complied.

However, by the 1965 North American Tour, those old prohibitions were slip-sliding away. Indeed, the songs of late 1965’s Rubber Soul spoke frankly about difficult topics. They addressed marital infidelity (“Norwegian Wood”), a possible liaison with a rising film star (“Drive My Car”), the dissolution of John’s marriage (“It’s Only Love”), and the complications inherent in adult relationships (“You Won’t See Me” and “I’m Looking Through You”). Even The Beatles’ jaunty single, “We Can Work It Out/ Day Tripper” spoke frankly about love affairs that didn’t go smoothly or finish well.

Now, in the spring of 1966, John penned “Dr. Robert,” a light-hearted ditty about a doctor whom you could ring for drugs…and not cough syrup or any ordinary prescription. And the “rush” that John felt in penning a song like this was the knowledge that to “the Establishment” (Brian included) harmonizing about illegal drug usage was still very much taboo! In his book John Lennon In My Life, John’s lifelong friend Pete Shotton wrote, “When John played me the acetate of ‘Dr. Robert,’ he seemed beside himself with glee over the prospect of millions of record buyers innocently singing along.” (p. 122) Much like singing the “tit-tit-tit-tit-tit” backing chorus to “Girl,” the theme of “Dr. Robert” and his little black bag intrigued John and the lads because it felt quite naughty.

I was a tad surprised to find that in 100 Best Beatles Songs, Spignesi and Lewis rated “Dr. Robert” as #73. However, their explanation soon set me straight. They wrote, “Prior to Revolver…The Beatles…wrote about romance and relationships…Suddenly, with one album, their focus changed. Confiscatory taxes, the alienated and the lonely, laziness, consciousness, the afterlife, and lest we forget, yellow submarines were all topics on Revolver. And then, on this same album, came ‘Dr. Robert,’ which was about (blimey!) recreational drug use. The message was clear: ‘We’ve changed. Either get on board or get out of the way.’ And most of us went along happily for the ride.” (p. 227) Yes, indeed, in 1966 the times they were a-changing for The Beatles…and for us. And as we changed, they changed (or vice versa). The Beatles constantly evolved, and “Dr. Robert” is evidence of that.

A Slathering of Humor – Though most listeners never comprehended it, in “Dr. Robert,” John Lennon was happily “takin’ the mickey” out of us all. He applied Lennonesque humor so subtly and with such finesse, that few realized that the heavy sound of the harmonium on the “Well, well, well, you’re feeling fine” bridge – backing those comforting words spoken by the goodly Dr. Robert – washed the words of the healer in a saintly soundtrack. When Dr. Robert spoke, it sounded exactly like a hymn offering salvation!

And why not? The healer was, John told us, the sort of doctor who “day or night will be there any time at all.” He’s the kind of physician who “will do everything he can – Dr. Robert!” From Dr. R’s “special cup” to his meds that would “pick you up,” the incomparable Dr. R had a unique way to “well, well, well make you.” You can almost see The Beatles cutting their eyes at one another and snickering.

Clearly, the boys were in on the joke. But actually, so were we, albeit unwittingly. In Tell Me Why, Tim Riley refers to the track as a “penetrating satire,” and he says that John’s biting humor “implicates not only the doctor and his ‘patients’ but the listener who gets seduced by the song’s tease as well.” (p. 123) This clever “nudge, nudge, wink, wink” creation casts us all under the spell of the sympathetic and edgy Dr. Robert.

A Fresh, New Look:

This month we’re privileged to have journalist and author Steve Matteo join us for the “Fresh New Look” segment of our Fest Blog. Steve was part of the 2023 Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans and the 2024 New York Fest at the TWA Hotel. He is the author of Let It Be and Dylan and his 2023 release, Act Naturally: The Beatles on Film. Steve has also written for The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, Rolling Stone, Spin, Elle, and Salon. We’re looking forward to having Steve and his wife, Jayne, join us again for the Chicago Fest 2024 and we’re excited to hear his reactions to “Dr. Robert,” the fun “nudge, nudge, wink, wink” creation by John Lennon and the boys.

Jude Southerland Kessler: Steve, welcome to the Fest Blog and thank you very much for taking time out of your busy schedule to share your expertise with us. Steve, in the spring/early summer of 1966, The Beatles and George Martin (now an independent producer) returned to EMI Studios not merely as musicians but as artists and innovative technicians. Using “every trick in the book” (as Lou Christie would sing years later) they employed unique instruments, recording techniques, and even outside musicians to create precisely the effects they sought. Although it’s not as obvious with this song as with others, “Dr. Robert” is layered with intentional sounds and stylings that afford the listener samples of a stressed life eased by Dr. Robert and his medicine show. How does John Lennon utilize his guitar, the vocals, and George Martin/Geoff Emerick’s recording techniques to achieve this aural imagery?

Steve Matteo: “Dr. Robert,” released at a significant time in the history of the recordings of the Beatles, is a song often discussed because of its lyrical story. The group’s previous album was Rubber Soul, the first album that throughout showed off the new sounds and textures they were exploring in the studio. The album broadened the canvas of the recording studio and introduced new colors and shadings that made the group’s already extraordinary songs even more vivid. After Rubber Soul and just before they began recording Revolver, they recorded the single “Paperback Writer” and the B-side “Rain.” While lyrically “Paperback Writer” was a poppy story of a writer of dime-store novels, it had guitar and vocal effects that were quite new. “Rain” was even more musically adventurous. On what may be the group’s best B-side, the interplay between McCartney’s bass and Starr’s drums is some of the most exciting playing of any track from the group and illustrates the cosmic musical relationship the group’s rhythm section created.

The vocals, however, are primarily what make “Dr. Robert” so musically memorable. The vocals on the track utilize ADT (Automatic Double Tracking) technology more than the other tracks on this album that is filled with it. Also, some of the vocal harmonies when the group sings “Well, well, well, you’re feeling fine” sound like a Greek chorus. It is here where the druggy theme of the song is most pronounced, but also shows how the group is clearly having fun with the subject matter. Adding to the decadent debauchery of the song’s milieu is some spacey Mannborg harmonium keyboard work by John Lennon, the main writer of the song and lead vocalist. Musically the song is very simple and playful, belying its subject matter.

While the theme of the song, particularly the doctor in question, has been debated and speculated upon since its release, another potentially key influence on the songwriting may have been overlooked. It’s hard to tell the exact spark that influenced Lennon to write the song, but one possibility is intriguing and highly plausible. The Rolling Stones had recorded a song called “Mother’s Little Helper,” which was the lead track on the group’s Aftermath album, released on April 15^, 1966.

The recording of “Dr. Robert” began on April 14. There’s certainly a good chance Lennon heard the album long before its official U.K. release. There is a much-viewed photo of McCartney in the recording studio closely examining the back cover of Aftermath, with his reading glasses on and holding onto his Rickenbacker bass guitar. With “Mother’s Little Helper,” rather than reflecting the burgeoning drug culture of the youth of the day, Jagger was writing about someone with parental and adult responsibilities dealing with the stress by taking pills.

“Dr. Robert,” Lennon’s first song to address the theme of drugs, rather than glorifying them, tells of a doctor available to the pampered and well-connected denizens of the demi-monde of the day. Unlike “Mother’s Little Helper,” the song doesn’t, for the most part, have a dreamy or spacey quality. While “Mother’s Little Helper” has a terse, almost gritty rock’n’roll edge, “Dr. Robert” is a jaunty little tune. It is a whimsical tale with the kind of light touch that appeared on the surface of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice” books, which were filled with drug references – literature Lennon was all too familiar with and fond of since he was a child.

Kessler: Steve, Beatles music experts and biographers have bandied about the identity of the infamous Dr. Robert. Some, like Hunter Davies, point to dentist John Riley who, without permission, gave George and John LSD in their coffee in the spring of 1965. Some point to London’s Robert Fraser. Most aver that Dr. Robert is New York’s famed Robert Freymann (Freeman or Frieman in other sources) who served as “healer” for the stars; some go so far as to claim that John was one of his clients. However, for those like you who know The Beatles’ harried schedule during those few days in which The Beatles were in New York during February of 1964, late August of 1964, mid-September of 1964, and mid-August of 1965 when they returned to play another “Ed Sullivan Show,” perform in Shea Stadium, and host celebrities in their suite the following day, there was absolutely zero time for John (and/or The Beatles) to trek over to see this supposed Dr. Robert. And there is no record of his presence in their suite, though myriad others are catalogued. Paul states that they have merely heard about the doctor and are writing this song based on that knowledge. In The Beatles Anthology and later in his Playboy Interviews, John Lennon stated that he consistently carried and administered the drugs for the band and – like almost all of his other songs – this song was written about him; he was Dr. Robert. What say you?

Matteo: It would appear the doctor in question initially was based on a doctor in New York who indeed did administer “vitamin” injections for his curious clientele. A more sinister reality of the situation may have been the doctor giving amphetamine shots to wealthy socialites, the famous and the infamous. Various doctors have been named as the subject of Lennon’s song, even though Lennon himself may not have been aware of exactly who the doctor was and just what he was doing. Many sources, as Jude pointed out in the “What’s New” segment, claim the real-life doctor in question was Dr. Robert Freymann, a German-born doctor who, at the time of the writing and recording of the song, was 60 years old and whose office was located at 78^th Street, in Manhattan, on the tony upper east side. Interestingly, in the film Ciao Manhattan, produced by Andy Warhol, there is a character named Dr. Charles Robert, who was likely based on the real Dr. Freymann, or even on Lennon’s song, since the film came out in 1972. In 1972, the real Dr. Freymann was still practicing medicine and was eventually expelled from the New York State Medical Society for malpractice in 1975.

What makes things even more confusing is that in Manhattan in the mid- to late-60s and early-70s there were many so-called “Dr. Roberts” offering a seamlessly endless cornucopia of potions to cure whatever ailed one. This doctor is the dark and destructive side of the drug culture, not those experimenting with marijuana or LSD who were seeking a more spiritual enlightening, although LSD and amphetamines could be equally lethal with enough use. It’s easy to read many other meanings (and doctors, real and imagined) into the song and on any given day, Lennon may have offered his own varying answers to what it was all about. It is, of course, not the only song on the album that has drug references, just the first he had written.

Prior to Revolver, “Rain” may have been influenced by drug use, but didn’t directly address drugs in the song’s lyrics. The other songs on the album about drugs, directly or indirectly, are “I’m Only Sleeping,” “She Said She Said” and “Tomorrow Never Knows.” Paul’s songs that had direct or indirect drug references are “Yellow Submarine” and “Got to Get You Into My life.” All of them share an obliqueness when addressing drugs, but all have drugs as a key component, whether musically or lyrically or both. There is also the question of whether the songs were simply influenced by the drug culture, or written under the influence.

Lennon was always a fan of double-entendres, as were The Beatles, especially the naughty schoolboys that still lurked in the four. “Dr. Robert” doesn’t so much have double-entendres as it includes lyrics that don’t specifically spell out the story of the song’s title character. It’s a song for those in the know, who get the wink-wink wordplay. The lyrics that most spell out who “Dr. Robert” is and what his function was and how Lennon slyly laid it out are: “If you’re down, he’ll pick you up/Doctor Robert/Take a drink from his special cup.”

Kessler: Steve, as I mentioned in the “What’s Changed” segment of the blog, in Spignesi and Lewis’s book, 100 Best Beatles Songs, “Dr. Robert” is rated at #73 , above such songs as “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Get Back,” and “Michelle.” How do you feel about the song’s ranking and the song itself?

Matteo: It’s difficult to rate “Dr. Robert.” In the context of Revolver, arguably the group’s best album, it may not be considered one of the group’s best songs or recordings. Among their entire catalog, it probably fares better. As is always the case, individual tracks from The Beatles that may not be considered among their best would probably rank pretty high against those from many other artists and certainly better than what passes for hits on the charts these days.

For more information on Steve Matteo, HEAD HERE

Follow Steve on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter

For my review of Steve Matteo’s book, Act Naturally: The Beatles on Film, HEAD HERE

Join Steve and Jude at the Fest for Beatles Fans, Aug. 9-11 at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare!!

Revolver Deep Dive Part 10: For No One

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Revolver

Side Two, Track Three

“For No One” Is For Everyone

by Jude Southerland Kessler

This month, the Fest for Beatles Fans Blog enjoys a closer look at Paul McCartney’s exquisite ballad, “For No One.” Jude Southerland Kessler, our Fest Blogger and author of The John Lennon Series is “going solo” on this deep dive, but calling upon the wisdom of many respected Beatles music experts as she explores this outstanding and touching work. Insights into this song have been enhanced by:

Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 78-79, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 220-221, The Beatles, The Beatles Anthology, 207, Womack, Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, 82-84, Harry, The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, 248, Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere, 128-129, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 18, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 136-138, Gould, Can’t Buy Me Love, 360-361, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215, Turner, Beatles ’66, 107-108, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 113, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 342-343, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 169-171, Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs, 168-170, Riley, Tell Me Why, 193-194, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 164, Womack, The Beatles Encyclopedia, 281, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 138-140, Spizer, The Beatles From Rubber Soul to Revolver, 220, and Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239. Also here.

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 9 May 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 7.00 – 11.00 p.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald

On this day: A backing track was created in ten takes with Ringo on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set and Paul on EMI’s Steinway “Music Room” Model “B” Grand Piano. (Hammack, 139) The tenth was designated as “best” and to this, Paul added work on a clavichord (which had been hired from Martin’s AIR company at the cost, Lewisohn tells us, of five guineas). Ringo added cymbals and maraca to Take 10 as well. Note: John and George did not take part in creating this backing track. (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 78 and Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 220-221)

Second Date Recorded: 16 May 1966

Place Recorded: Studio Two

Time Recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 1.30 a.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald

On this day: Obviously, on this long day, the entire time in studio wasn’t spent on “For No One.” Most of the afternoon and evening was given to overdubs and mixing in order to create a master reel. But a portion of the day was set aside for Paul to overdub his poignant lead vocal onto Take 10 of “For No One.” It was recorded, Lewisohn reminds us, at 47 ½ cycles and then sped up on replay. (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 78 and The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 220-221) Rodriguez comments that this “gave [McCartney’s] voice a slightly elevated pitch upon playback.” (p. 137)

Third Date Recorded: 19 May 1966

Time recorded: 7.00 – 11.00 p.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 79)

On this day: Alan Civil, principal French horn player from the Royal (some sources say “London”) Philharmonic Orchestra was invited to EMI Studios to play the haunting French horn obbligato in this song. There are two completely different versions of what happened that day. Let’s look at both:

Many sources, including Civil himself, tell the story that Hunter Davies repeats in The Beatles Lyrics, p 171. He writes: “Civil came in [to EMI Studios], was told roughly what was wanted by George Martin and Paul, composed his own bit, played and went home, earning only his session fee.” This version of historical events can be found in great detail in Womack’s Sound Pictures, The Life of Beatles Producer George Martin, pp. 82-83. Womack summarizes: “In Civil’s memory, it was McCartney who asked him to improvise a solo – ‘to make something up,’ as it were, in a baroque style.”

However, there is another completely different version of the day’s events, and Womack, using direct quotes from The Beatles Anthology, unveils this second account as well. He writes, “McCartney’s memories of the session vary dramatically from Civil’s. The Beatle later recalled humming the melody to Martin, who dutifully adapted McCartney’s vision into musical notation.” Womack quotes McCartney as saying, “George asked me, ‘Now what do you want him to play?’ I said, ‘Something like this,’ and sang the solo to him, and he wrote it down.” (Womack, p. 83 and The Beatles Anthology, 207)

So, which version of the story actually occurred? Womack points out that the “high F” note in the obligato just might hold the answers we seek. Womack quotes Paul as saying, “At the end of the session…George explained to me the range of the [French horn]…” and showed Paul that what they had composed “goes from here to this top E.” Mischievously, Paul responded, “What if we asked him to play an F?” And Womack goes on to say, “In Paul’s recollection, George saw the joke and joined in the conspiracy. We came to the session and Alan looked up from his bit of paper: ‘Eh, George? I think there’s a mistake here – you’ve got a high F note written down.’ Then, George and I said, ‘Yeah,’ and smiled back at him, and he knew what we were up to and played it.” (Womack, p. 84 and The Beatles Anthology, 207) It seems unlikely that Civil would have written what was considered an “unreachable note” for himself. It is more likely that this impossible task was proposed by McCartney and Martin, and Civil rose to meet the challenge.

What’s Changed:

Keyed in B…This song was composed in a key used quite rarely by The Beatles. In fact, only these of The Beatles’ songs were composed in B: “For No One,” “Penny Lane” (whose chorus changes to A major), and “Revolution.” The official sheet music for “For No One” has the key raised to C, but that is not the key in which the song was written or recorded. It’s felt that C was chosen for the sheet music to make the song easier to play. Spignesi and Lewis, 169 and here

Museum Piece Rescue – Paul wrote and recorded “For No One” but never had occasion to perform it live. He regretted this inability to share his ballad with an audience, making the song what Paul dubbed “a museum piece.” Therefore, “For No One” was included in Give My Regards to Broad Street.

Reverb Reserve – Geoff Emerick famously employed very little reverb in the songs he engineered, and “For No One” really benefits from this economy of treatment. It produced a simple, pure sound.

Destiny’s Role – The French horn obbligato was originally slated to be performed by maestro Dennis Brian. (Rodriguez, 137) However, Brian died in an automobile accident before he could record the solo, and Alan Civil, described by Rodriguez as “an equal caliber musician,” was selected to replace him. Civil turned in an exceptional performance and is one of the first “outside” musicians (along with Anil Bhagwat) to be mentioned on a Beatles record.

Continued Experimentation with a Classical Theme – “For No One” has been categorized as “chamber music” or “baroque music.” In a vein similar to “Eleanor Rigby,” this song’s lovely melody has classical roots, but it flourishes when the French horn obbligato is added to the score. In the Autumn of 1965, The Beatles were elbow-deep in musical exploration, and we’re all the better for it.

A Fresh, New Look:

The Reviews are In!

“One of my favourites of [Paul’s]! A nice piece of work.”
John Lennon

“Another remarkable McCartney ballad, melodically sophisticated and lyrically mature.”

Barry Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239

“A great ballad with a beautiful melody and striking production.”

Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs, 168

“…a sad, regretful, wistful, heartbreaking song…impeccably put together with a wonderful French horn solo by Alan Civil, perhaps the best-known hornist of his day…”

Hunter Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 171

“…conveys the solitude and regret of Yesterday, with more disbelief, more longing…”

Tim Riley, Tell Me Why, 193

“…remains one of Paul’s greatest accomplishments, with…a simple but effective melody.”

John C. Winn, That Magic Feeling, 18

“For No One” is universally respected. Calling it “a dark sister to ‘Here, There and Everywhere,” and “the true heir of ‘Yesterday,” Jonathan Gould (among so many others) extols this unusual song’s unvarnished honesty, and its “stark, sinking feeling” that something beautiful is dying and cannot be revived. (p. 360) This is not a ballad of love; it’s a requiem of loss.

When first approached about the song in the 1960s, Paul denied that it was written for a particular person, but later, he confessed, “I wrote that on a skiing holiday in Switzerland. In a hired chalet amongst the snow.” (Womack, The Beatles Encyclopedia, 281) And with him on that holiday (in the Swiss resort of Klosters) was, of course, his long-time love, Jane Asher. (Spizer, 215 and Winn, 18) Paul states, “I suspect it was about another argument. I don’t have easy relationships with women, I never have. I talk too much truth.” (Womack, 281). The lovers’ quarrel in that snow-banked chalet must have been calamitous, because the first title of this Revolver track was “Why Did it Have to Die?” And in The Beatles Lyrics, 172, Davies shares the hand-written draft of Paul’s original lyrics. They read:

“Why did it have to die?

You’d like to know

Cry and blame her

You wait

You’re too late

As you’re deciding why the wrong one wins the end begins

And you will lose her

Why did it have to die

I’d like to know

Try – to save it

You want her

You need (love) her

So make her see that you believe it may work out

And one day you may need each other.”

Unlike some of Paul’s songs for Jane which threaten (“Why, tell me why, did you not treat me right?/ Love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight”) or chide (“Now today I find/ You have changed your mind/ Treat me like you did the night before”) or point out unfair treatment (“When I call you up/ Your line’s engaged/ I have had enough/ So act your age!”), “For No One” is neither angry nor frustrated. Instead, it is a tender song of love lost.

Paul, who in the latter part of 1965 had been extensively reading plays, wrote the lyrics almost as if they were stage directions:

Your day breaks, your mind aches,
You find that all her words of kindness linger on
When she no longer needs you.

She wakes up, she makes up,
She takes her time and doesn’t feel she has to hurry,
She no longer needs you.

We watch the characters moving through the miasma of a sorrowful morning, a day in which two lovers have both physically and metaphorically awakened to the realization that their “love is dead.” And suddenly, McCartney’s message is inclusive. Using simple, direct language and brief sentences, he pulls us into his lyrics. He speaks a language that everyone understands and draws each listener into these familiar scenes of heartbreak. His lyrics are, as John Winn commented, “evocative.” (That Magic Feeling, 18)

For me, that word “familiar” was the very lynchpin of my love of this song. I was 12 years old…sitting on the side of my bed and playing Revolver for the first time…carefully placing the 33 1/3 on the turntable of my lift-top record player and lowering the needle. For the next hour, I sat cross-legged and listened…and listened and listened and blinked back tears.

“A song about taxes?! John Lennon knowns what it’s like to be dead?!!!! And what in the world has happened to George Harrison? ‘Love You To?’ Love you to what????” The studious me was completely bewildered by Revolver’s suggestions to “lay down your thoughts” and “turn off your mind.”

The only track to which I could relate was “For No One.” It recalled “Yes It Is” and “This Boy.” It hearkened back to “I’ll Follow the Sun” and even to John’s “If I Fell.” In myriad ways, it tethered me to “Yesterday.”

Years later, I read Robert Rodriguez’s brilliant work Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock and Roll, and the LP unfolded for me like a brightly colored pop-up book! (Thank you, Robert!) But at age 12, “For No One” provided a tidbit of the wonderfully familiar. On this strange LP of eccentric songs, “For No One” supplied music I understood. Like Paul’s universal lyrics, his melody offered a sound to which fans of the Cavern Beatles or The BBC Beatles could cling. In the turbulent, kaleidoscopic Summer of 1966, this song alone whispered, “Safe and sound.”

Each month, in our “Fresh, New Look” segment of the Fest Blog, I ask our guest commentator, “What do you like about this song? What appeals to you?” So…this month, I’d love to hear from you!

Please comment below and tell us what you felt when you first heard “For No One.” How did you react and why? And almost sixty years later, how do you feel about the song today?

I’d love to hear from you. And more importantly, I can’t wait to see you all in just a few months at the Chicago Fest for Beatles Fans, August 9-11 at the Hyatt Regency O’Hare!

For more information on Jude Southerland Kessler or The John Lennon Series, HEAD HERE

Revolver Deep Dive Part 9: And Your Bird Can Sing

By Danny Abriano

Side Two, Track Two

In Which “You Don’t Get Me” becomes “And Your Bird Can Sing”

by Jude Southerland Kessler and Erin Torkleson Weber

This month, our Fest Blog continues our in-depth study of Revolver with a song that has “more than meets the eye.” It’s John Lennon’s enigmatic “And Your Bird Can Sing,” a track full of vitriolic lyrics, incredible musicianship, and controversy about “who did what.”

Joining Jude Southerland Kessler, author of The John Lennon Series this month to explore this song is the highly respected author Erin Torkelson Weber. A graduate of Newman University and Wichita State, after completing her graduate degree, Erin Weber began teaching American History part time at Newman University. Looking for a new, more modern subject to appeal to students in her senior seminar and research classes, Erin, a Beatles fan since childhood, began researching the band’s historiography. In 2016 McFarland published her work The Beatles and the Historians: An Analysis of Writings About the Fab Four, which examines the historical methodology and historiographical arc of the Beatles story. In addition, Erin helps run a blog, “The Historian and the Beatles,” which provides book reviews and source analysis of various Beatles works: she also co-hosts “All Together Now,” a podcast with Karen Hooper, and has guest starred on numerous other podcasts. Erin is a beloved member of our Fest Family, and we welcome her to the blog!

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 20 April 1966

Time recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 2.30 a.m. (Note: Lewisohn points out that also recorded on this long day in studio were 4 rhythm track takes of “Taxman.”)

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil MacDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 75)

On this day: A backing track was created with Ringo on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set and George on his 1965 Rickenbacker 360 12-string electric. There is a second guitarist, and the identity of that person has been questioned and debated through the years. In The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, Hammack states that it was “either Lennon on his 1961 Fender Stratocaster with synchronized tremolo or McCartney on his Epiphone ES-230TD, Casino electric guitar with Selmer Bigsby B7 vibrato.” (p. 125) Hammack notes that when George Harrison was quizzed about who performed on the second guitar by Guitar Player magazine in 1987, Harrison admitted that he didn’t know the answer. Hammack says that he feels “Lennon’s aggressive count-in indicates him as the guitarist,” but there is no conclusive proof. On this same track, John and Paul also sang on the backing vocals. (Hammack, 125)

Two takes were performed. Take Two was deemed “best.”

Then, superimpositions followed:

McCartney performed on his 1964 Rickenbacker 4001S bass

Harrison performed a guitar solo on one of 3 guitars he had in studio

Starr performed on tambourine

Paul and John double-tracked the backing vocals. The harmonies in the backing vocals are quite intricate and of note. This often-overlooked song has many layers.

Date Reworked: 26 April 1966

Location for both sessions: EMI, Studio Two

Time recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 2.45 a.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 76)

On this day: The Beatles decide to completely remake “And Your Bird Can Sing.” In 11 takes, (which are numbered 3-13) The Beatles create a completely new backing track. Hammack tells us that “Lennon [is] either on his Fender Stratocaster or his Epiphone ES-230TD, Casino electric guitar, Harrison [is] again on [his] Rickenbacker 360-12 electric guitar, McCartney [is] on his Rickenbacker 4001S bass, and Starr is on his Ludwig drums. (Hammack, 126)

Takes 6 and 10 were selected as “best.” Superimpositions included:

Ringo on tambourine

Ringo on high-hat and cymbals

Eventually, Take 10 would be chosen as “best,” but Paul’s bass work on Take 6 would still be dubbed as the best. So, these elements were blended.

Once again, the harmony lead guitar work is questioned. There is no doubt that Harrison performed. But no one knows for sure if Lennon or McCartney accompanied him.

As the last order of business, Hammack tells us, “Finally, John added his lead vocals with McCartney and Harrison on backing vocals and hand claps (all recorded with frequency control (varispeed) at slower than normal tape speed, on playback sounding around half a semitone higher in pitch.)” (The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, p. 127)

***See Jerry Hammack’s The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 125-128 for more information.

Other Valuable Sources: Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 75 and 77 , Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 218 and 219, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 12-13 and 14-15,Lennon, Cynthia, A Twist of Lennon, 128, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 89 and 123-126, Robertson, The Art and Music of John Lennon, 54-55, Gould, 360, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215, Spizer, The Beatles Rubber Soul to Revolver, 219, Turner, Beatles ’66, 159-161, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 111-112, Margotin and Guesdon, 340-341, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 169-171, Spignesi and Lewis, 79-80, Riley, Tell Me Why, 192-193, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 159, Womack, Long and Winding Roads (2007 edition), 143-144, Womack, The Beatles Encyclopedia, 36-37, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 125-128, and Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 76.

A Fresh New Look:

Jude Southerland Kessler: Erin, the recording of “And Your Bird Can Sing” took two long days of studio work – 13 takes! Yet, in The Beatles Anthology, John Lennon categorizes “And Your Bird Can Sing” as “one of my throwaways.” This is a typical Lennon “tell,” a phrase he consistently uses to characterize songs that reveal too much emotion, leaving him vulnerable. John applies the epithet to 1965’s “It’s Only Love,” which explores the deepening rift in his relationship with Cynthia. He applies it to “Run for Your Life,” a song that lays bare his jealously and feelings of inadequacy. (He told David Sheff that only after his Primal Scream therapy was he able to write a song openly about these feelings: “Jealous Guy.”) Is it possible that John is rebuffing other deep-seated emotions in this song as well?

Erin Torkleson Weber: A “throwaway” song would presumably come across as (by Beatles standards, anyway) formulaic and relatively unremarkable, and “And Your Bird Can Sing” is neither. John’s ex post facto dismissal of its significance (he criticized it several times after the band’s breakup, both in 1971 and 1980) doesn’t erode the song’s lyrical bite and sharp edges, which appear to offer a glimpse into John wanting, for lack of a better term, “top billing” from someone with whom he’s connected, and whose preoccupation with tangential things is apparently mucking up their connection with and understanding of the singer, John. Given what we know of John’s deep-seated, lifelong fear of abandonment, this reading of the song would make it the furthest thing from a throwaway; rather, it can be seen as an expression of insecurity and frustration at an important someone’s not prioritizing him and letting him down by not “getting” him. One of the authors to underscore this song’s possible emotional significance is Tim Riley, who notes “the implied rejection” (Riley, Tell Me Why, 192) evidenced by the snag in Lennon’s vocalization of “me.”

However, Riley appears to be one of the authorial exceptions. In his excellent work, Can’t Buy Me Love: The Beatles, Britain and America, Jonathan Gould describes “And Your Bird Can Sing” as “directed at an anonymous adversary,” (Gould, 359), and that adversarial component is what has drawn the most focus and encouraged significant speculation over the decades, by numerous authors, over whom John is addressing. Theories have ranged from Mick Jagger to Frank Sinatra, usually arguing that the song was provoked by Lennon’s “professional jealousy” (Gould, 360) and/or his dismissal of individuals whose pretension blinded them to true enlightenment. (Turner, Beatles’ 66: The Revolutionary Year, 160).

Yet these interpretations tend to ignore that, at the same time it criticizes, “And Your Bird Can Sing” also attempts to offer its subject some reassurance. “I’ll be round,” is, after all, wrapped inside the warning “you don’t get me;” a very appropriate lyrical pivot for the emotionally mercurial Lennon. This appears to indicate that, once the subject has tired of their pretentious distractions, Lennon and the song’s subject can possibly “see” one another and connect.

This reading of the song would certainly seem to eliminate Gould’s speculation that it was directed at Sinatra, to whom John would hardly be inclined to want to “see” or “get” him. And Faithfull’s speculation that the song was directed at Jagger (identifying her, Marianne, as the “bird” in the song) is purely that, speculation. (Rodriguez, Revolver: How the Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 89). This overall reading of the song inevitably leads us to the question: Whom did Lennon feel, during this point in the Revolver sessions, wasn’t understanding him or prioritizing him the way he needed? That’s a level of lyrical analysis that’s above my historian’s paygrade, but a fascinating question to ask, particularly given John’s latter strong dismissal of the song.

Kessler: Erin, as a follow-up question… In the wake of his successful volumes, In His Own Write and A Spaniard in the Works, John had contracted with Jonathan Cape Publishers to write a third book to be released in February 1966. And writing was important to John. Indeed, when asked by Kenneth Allsop which profession he would prefer if he could choose between writing songs or writing books, John immediately chose writing books. He told Allsop he’d been doing that long before he became a Beatle. However, by the end of 1965, John admitted that he had only one poem prepared for the upcoming book, and so, he abandoned the idea of publishing again. Of course, John’s unrelenting schedule in 1965 must have had a great deal to do with that decision. But, do you think it’s possible that songs such as “And Your Bird Can Sing” gradually supplanted John’s need to write emotional, soul-revealing poetry and prose?

Weber: This is an excellent question, because it offers a chance to delve into issues regarding John’s creative process, and how that process was impacted by external and internal factors. What’s interesting about John’s schedule in 1965 is that you can make the argument his earlier schedules from the years when he wrote In His Own Write, published in 1964, and A Spaniard in the Works, which was published in June of 1965, were equally frantic. Why would this demanding schedule only begin to slow down his literary productivity by the end of 1965, when it hadn’t seriously impacted it before? Having said that, you can certainly argue that it was the cumulative effect of what had been, at that point, approximately three years of an unrelenting schedule, frantic pace, and constant demands of new songwriting material that played a role in preventing John from producing his third book.

We can speculate on any number of reasons, in addition to his frantic schedule, as to why John ultimately didn’t produce his third book. John told Allsop that he preferred writing books to writing songs, but the reality is that contractual and studio demands unquestioningly and unrelentingly prioritized song writing. So did the band’s group ethos and his competitive partnership with Paul.

Additionally, the argument that John’s realization that he could use song lyrics, such as those in “And Your Bird Can Sing,” to express the emotions previously and primarily expressed in his poems, letters and cartoons is a convincing one. In The Art and Music of John Lennon, John Robertson notes how Lennon’s “prose and verse writing had once been a form of exorcism,” (Robertson, 50) but argues that the lyrical example of Bob Dylan, coupled with the sonic possibilities in the studio, essentially allowed John to exorcise these elements through songwriting in a way that he had never previously considered or been able to accomplish.

Finally, we have to note that this use of self-revealing lyrics, replacing the old outlets of poetry and prose, corresponded with John’s initial exposure to and use of LSD. Robertson discusses how Lennon’s LSD use seriously influenced his writing and also argues that, in contrast to “the more fixed medium of prose,” songwriting allowed Lennon to express “these vague, shifting feelings” created by the aforementioned LSD use. (Robertson, 50)

Kessler: To conclude, what’s your reaction to this song, Erin? Does it speak to you in any way? Musically? Lyrically? Emotionally?

Weber: For me, “And Your bird Can Sing” is an excellent case study of how our connections and reactions to songs can shift with time and experience. As a bookish, four-eyed, awkward pre-teen with only a few (but amazing, essential, now lifelong) friends, every time I heard “And Your Bird Can Sing” on my dad’s Beatles tapes, I heard it as an indictment of the “cool” crowd in my middle school: fellow preteens so obsessed with wearing the right pair of brand-name sneakers that anyone, no matter how smart or funny or warm or generous, who didn’t meet their superficial standards was shunned or teased: “You say you’ve seen the seven wonders…but you don’t see me.” It went both ways, too: in my mind, if you were the sort of individual who cared so much about such trivial, adolescent status symbols that you couldn’t bother to look beneath the surface in order to know the person underneath, I didn’t want to waste my time attempting to get to know you, either.

Decades later, and (thankfully) well removed from middle school, I have a deep appreciation for the song’s lack of sentimentality. “And Your Bird Can Sing” is a song about attempting, and failing, to connect with someone. This is a feeling to which almost everyone can relate. Yet there’s no self-pity in it, and no sentimentality. I’m not a musician, or a musicologist, but my interpretation is that every other musical aspect of the song – the strident guitars, the edge in John’s voice – serves the song well. Its blend of warning over how prioritizing the wrong things – “prized possessions” – has damaged a point of connection between two people, combined with the singer’s frustration at feeling unseen and unheard, makes it relatable. Connections between people can and do fray, and while they can be patched, this song lays bare how it feels when that distance starts to occur.

What’s Changed:

Generally, this segment of the Fest blog precedes the “Fresh, New Look” interview. However, Erin Weber’s responses were so integral to the information in the following section that for this month, we’ve shifted things around. The aspect of “And Your Bird Can Sing” that has changed most over the years is the presumed identity of the protagonist, the “you” in this song. There have been many theories and suggestions proffered. Based on 37 years of study of John’s life and personality, I’m postulating yet another theory. Fifty-nine years after the song’s composition, however, no one can conclusively prove John’s intent. – Jude

As historian Erin Torkleson Weber so adeptly pointed out, Beatles experts and biographers have, over the years, offered myriad suggestions about the identity of the person to whom this song addressed. Others have claimed that they were the subjects of the song, although they can’t explain why Lennon was so annoyed with them. Marianne Faithfull, for example – as Erin indicates – swore the song was about her, claiming John’s jealousy toward Mick Jagger and herself. But Faithfull’s claim falls flat when we discover that 1) John genuinely liked Mick Jagger and 2) John wrote this song before Marianne and Mick were even “an item.”

Cynthia Lennon, who once gave John the gift of a wind-up songbird, thought the song was directed at her and said so in her first book, A Twist of Lennon (p. 128). But when we closely examine the lyrics, Cynthia meets none of the criteria to be the song’s protagonist. Cynthia had only traveled a limited number of times and all of those excursions were taken with her husband: to Ireland, Paris, Tahiti, and America for The Beatles’ Feb. 1964 visit. (Her visit to India was yet to transpire.) Cynthia had never visited exotic locations or seen “Seven Wonders.” Additionally, she knew very little about sound and music, and most crucially, she certainly didn’t have everything she wanted. John’s lyrics simply don’t fit Cynthia’s profile.

Lately, a YouTube video from James Hargreaves (which is well-presented) offers up Frank Sinatra as the song’s possible protagonist because Sinatra edged out The Beatles for The Grammy’s “Album of the Year” award in 1965 with the LP, September of My Life – and because Sinatra intensely disliked The Beatles and said so.

However, John and Paul had never “given a whit” for gold records, titles, or honors. By the summer of 1965, John had quit attending the Ivor Novello Awards. All of The Beatles complained about appearing at innumerable gold record ceremonies. In fact, in August of 1965, when compelled to attend the celebratory cocktail party given for them by Capitol Records president, Alan Livingston, George flatly refused to attend; Paul left early, and John departed not long after Paul. Such laudatory proceedings had become tedious.

All The Beatles really wanted to do was make great music. And as they returned to EMI in October of 1965 to create what would become Rubber Soul, they were inspired (and not threatened) by American competitors such as The Lovin’ Spoonful and the Byrds. In fact, the more talented their competitors (The Stones, the Byrds, the Beach Boys), the more The Beatles respected and liked them!

Frank Sinatra hardly registered on The Beatles’ radar. If the performer didn’t appreciate their hair or their style or even their personalities…well, who cared? Yet the tone of “And Your Bird Can Sing” is anything but milquetoast. It is angry. Very angry. John Lennon is singing to someone who really matters to him. Indeed, it appears that John is speaking directly to someone he knows – someone close to him whom he feels has betrayed his trust. We know this is the case because, as Erin pointed out, John vows in the bridge that no matter how cruel the person is to him,

“Look in my direction,

I’ll be ’round; I’ll be ’round.”

In other words, John has no intention of turning his back on the offender. Despite perceived disloyalty demonstrated by his former friend, John promises that he will always be there.

So, who is the protagonist of this song? John supplies numerous (though cryptic) clues to the betrayer’s identity:

The person has “everything he wants.” (The protagonist is well-to-do: living in a chic locale and driving a prized car, making headlines and rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous, succeeding in a powerful career.)
The person has “seen Seven Wonders.” ( In other words, the individual is well-traveled: having seen the world from the Spanish Riviera to the width and breadth of North America to exotic Hong Kong, New Zealand, and Australia. In John’s eyes, this person has seen it all, done it all. The protagonist is far more cosmopolitan than John, more polished and experienced.)
The person purports to “have heard every sound there is.” (This tidbit clues us into the fact that the individual in question is, quite possibly, part of the music industry. However, John’s legendary sarcasm here hangs on two words: “you say.” John is smirking as he hisses, “You say you’re a music expert. You say you’ve heard every sound there is.” We get the feeling that the individual to whom John is singing has made unwelcome suggestions to John about his own compositions or performances.)
The person has quirky, idiomatic tastes. (Well, after all, his bird is green…which leads us to perceive him as exotic and singular for his day.)
Finally (and most significantly), this individual is extremely important to John. In fact, according to the lyrics, at an earlier point in their relationship, John wrongly assumed this person, “got him,” “understood him,” “heard him,” and “saw him.” Now, in the sunless backlash born of faithlessness, John is striking out with a lacerating verbal attack.

Who fits this five-point profile?

Who had a very intimate relationship with John – so deep that he shared John’s secrets and trusted John with his own? Who had been so close to John that it was rumored by mutual associates such as Yankel Feather and Joe Flannery that a possible love affair might exist between the two? Who had been John’s advocate before possessions, world travels, the myriad demands of business, and the intricate web of power struggles set in? If your answer is “Brian Epstein,” then we’re on the same page.

It is the reference to the “green bird” that really highlights Brian’s identity for us. In Liverpool’s Scouse lingo, a “baird” is a term for a girl or a girlfriend. And “to swing,” in the 1960s, meant “to step out from the norm sexually.” Thus, John’s reference to his friend’s unusual “green bird” – a bird who “swings” – was, in all likelihood, a bitter Lennonistic dig at Brian’s gay relationships. Indeed, on The Anthology version of this song, when Paul and John sing, “and your bird can swing,” they snicker naughtily at their sly double entendre.

If we agree that John is, in fact, addressing Brian in this song, a second question immediately arises: What would have caused John to become angry enough with Brian that he penned this attack – a song only slightly less hostile than “How Do You Sleep?”

By 1966, John ached to stop touring. All of The Beatles did. And although they had expressed that sentiment to Brian over and over again, he completely ignored them. While this was frustrating for Paul and George, it seemed a personal wound for John.

In December of 1961 – upon assuming management of The Beatles – Brian had pledged to Mimi Smith that no matter what happened to the other boys, he would always protect John. He had vowed to work tirelessly to defend her nephew’s best interests. But now, John feels that Brian has stopped putting him first. Consumed with what John has decided is a desire for wealth, fame, and power, Brian (John thinks) is pushing The Beatles too hard – callously demanding new films, tours, singles and LPs, interviews, radio shows, television programmes, and personal appearances. And once upon a time, Brian had promised better.

Hence, John lashes out with real invective, linking each verse with the string of repeating accusations. “You don’t hear me!” “You don’t see me!” “You don’t get me!” John sees Brian’s refusal to address his needs as a broken vow, an infidelity.

This song, therefore, fits snugly into the “broken relationships” theme of Revolver. Originally entitled, “You Don’t Get Me!” this song shatters the giddy mood of “Good Day Sunshine.” Track Two of Side One gave us “Eleanor Rigby.” Here comparably, in Track Two of Side Two, John and Brian are “the lonely people,” standing in a church of abandoned promises, surrounded by memories from May of 1963, when they vacationed together for 10 days on the Spanish Riviera or September 1963 when they spent happy days alone together in Paris. During those times, John and Brian had formed a bond born of shared vulnerabilities rarely voiced to anyone else. They had reached out to one another in mutual trust. Now, a mere three years later, John is spewing fury over the perceived perversion of that trust as Brian steadily continues to insist upon the course he feels The Beatles must follow.

For the wounded John Lennon, having “everything you want,” “seeing Seven Wonders,” “knowing every sound there is,” and even owning an exotic green, swinging bird means nothing if, in the process of garnering such success, you sacrifice friendship. Frustrated and fuming, but promising to “be ’round” when Brian finally hears him, sees him, and gets him once again, John is hanging on. However, the unresolved chord at the end of this song reminds us that in the future, anything can happen.

Sadly, by August of 1967, anything did happen. Fame exacted its price. And the birdsong fell silent.

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Revolver Deep Dive Part 8: Good Day Sunshine

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Side Two, Track One

Good Day, Great Song!

by Jude Southerland Kessler with Special Guest, Ivor Davis

The Fest for Beatles Fans kicks off the exciting 60^th Anniversary of 1964 – that landmark year in which many significant Beatles events (including The Beatles’ first trip to America and the release of the film “A Hard Day’s Night” with its remarkable soundtrack LP) took place! Simultaneously, The Fest will celebrate its 50^th Anniversary – by gathering at the TWA Hotel in New York on Feb. 9-11. (Yes, the very date that The Beatles were first featured on “The Ed Sullivan Show”!) I’ll be there, and I hope you will be, too!

This month, our Fest Blog will add to the festivities by continuing our in-depth study of Revolver. We’re flipping the LP onto Side Two to enjoy Track One, the appropriately jubilant song, “Good Day Sunshine”!

Joining us this month to explore McCartney’s upbeat classic is the most upbeat of authors, the former Foreign Correspondent for the Daily Express – the man who toured with The Beatles in 1964 and went with them to meet Elvis in 1965, Ivor Davis. Ivor has been a guest at many Fests and is one of our favorite people in the vast Beatles family. We’re hoping he returns to the Chicago Fest in August as he releases the extended, enhanced version of his detailed work, The Beatles and Me on Tour. Let’s see what this respected British journalist, noted author, and Fest friend has to say about “Good Day Sunshine” as he gives it a “fresh, new look.”

But first, please join me for the “song stats”…

– Jude

What’s Standard:

Date Recorded: 8 June 1966 – The Beatles rehearsed “A Good Day’s Sunshine” (the original title) for quite a while, eventually recording three takes that comprised the rhythm track: bass guitar, drums, and piano. “Take One” was selected as “best.” (Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 82) Then, according to many sources, the tape was rewound, and Paul recorded a lead vocal with backing vocals by John and George on a second track. This was accomplished using frequency control (or “varispeed”) at a slightly slower than normal speed. When played at regular tempo, the vocals would be pitched a semitone higher. (Hammack, 148)

Time recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 2.30 a.m. (The rehearsals took up most of this time frame, with the actual recording of the three takes only consuming about an hour.)

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Richard Lush

9 June 1966 – Onto “Take One,” Ringo added another bass drum, snare drum, and cymbals on a third track. (Winn, 24) Then, on a fourth track (Winn, 24) George Martin added what Mark Lewisohn in The Beatles Recording Sessions (p. 82) refers to as “a honky-tonk piano solo for the song’s middle eight.” This unusual sound was also achieved via the use, once again, of varispeed. The solo was taped at 56 cycles per second so that when played at normal tempo, it would sound brighter. Handclaps were also added along with extra harmonies by John and George.

Location for both sessions: EMI, Studio Two

Time recorded: 2.30 p.m. – 8.30 p.m.

Technical Team:

Producer: George Martin

Sound Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald

Instrumentation and Musicians:*

Paul McCartney, the composer, played Studio Two’s Steinway “Music Room” Model “B” grand piano and sang lead vocals.

John Lennon, sang backing vocals. (Bruce Spizer in The Beatles Rubber Soul to Revolver, p. 219, notes that you can hear John echo “She feels good” at 1.27 in the song.) Some sources (for example, Margotin and Guesdon’s All the Songs, p. 228) have John playing rhythm guitar. However, Riley in Tell Me Why says, “With piano double-tracked on both channels, there’s no need for guitar.” (p. 191) And Hammack (see below) has John possibly manning the bass guitar.

George Harrison, sang backing vocals. In The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, Hammack states that it was “either Lennon or Harrison on bass (it was not documented, nor is it discernible from the available audio which Beatle played bass).” (p. 148) Because both Harrison and Lennon were right-handed, the bass used on this song was not one of Paul’s but a 1964 Burns Nu-Sonic. (Hammack, 148)

Ringo Starr, played drums on his 1964 Ludwig Oyster “Black Pearl” Super Classic drum set as well as tambourine.

George Martin, played an original “honky-tonk” piano solo for the middle eight.

*Most information above is found in Hammack’s The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2 and supplemented as noted above.

Sources: Lewisohn, The Beatles Recording Sessions, 82, Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 224, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 24-25, McCartney, The Lyrics, 232, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215, Spizer, The Beatles Rubber Soul to Revolver, 219, Turner, Beatles ’66, 203-204, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 111-112, Miles, The Beatles Diary, Vol. 1, 239, Margotin and Guesdon, 228-229, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 166-169, Spignesi and Lewis, 275-276, Riley, Tell Me Why, 191, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 167, Womack, Long and Winding Roads (2007 edition), 143, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 148-150, and Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 77.

For more information on comedians and musicians in the British Music Hall tradition, go to: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_British_music_hall_performers#British_Music_Hall_entertainers

What’s Changed

Incorporation of musical influences from myriad sources – Some of these include:
the colorful sounds of the old British music hall with which all of The Beatles would have been quite familiar. The Empire Theatre in City Center and the Philharmonic Hall on Hope Street (to name just a few) hosted these vibrant, vaudeville variety shows featuring comedians such as Liverpool’s George Formby and Ken Dodd, as well as gifted musicians from all genres. In The Lyrics, Paul recalls, “Both John and I grew up while the music hall tradition was still very vibrant, so it was always in the back of our minds.” And here in “Good Day Sunshine,” the warm variety show vibe is woven throughout, transporting the listener back to those happy music hall days. Indeed, Riley points out that, “[t]he ragtime piano solo…is round with Joplinesque pleasure…” and “…if it weren’t for the vibrant colors of the harmonies in the refrain, [the song] would be positively old-fashioned.” (Tell Me Why, 191) Some suggest that this song is a precursor to “When I’m 64” and later, “Honey Pie.”
the Folk Rock trend which was topping the charts in America. Paul has acknowledged that “Good Day Sunshine” was specifically influenced by the Lovin’ Spoonful’s laid-back “walk in the sun” hit song, “Daydream,” which had been released in February 1966. Indeed, John and Paul had recently seen the Lovin’ Spoonful in concert at London’s Soho district Marquee Club. (Turner, Beatles ’66, 204 and Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 112) Some sources list the Kinks’ hit, “Sunny Afternoon” as a source of inspiration, but The Beatles recorded “Good Day Sunshine” in early June and “Sunny Afternoon” didn’t hit the charts until 6 July 1966.
the Tamla Motown beat. This influence reaches “Good Day Sunshine” in a rather meandering fashion. Of course, The Beatles had always loved the sounds of Motown, but in “Good Day Sunshine,” the “choppy guitar beat” and pounding piano that introduces the song was heavily influenced by a similar sound at the beginning of the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Daydream.” When asked about their unusual “Daydream” intro, John Sebastian (lead singer for the Spoonful) said he borrowed it from two Supremes songs, “Where Did Our Love Go?” and “Baby Love.” So, in a circuitous way, these two Motown hits also impacted “Good Day Sunshine.”

Harmonic Shifts and a Raised Ending for the Song – In the song’s final chorus, The Beatles employ a clever harmonic shift, and in the concluding, cascading chants of “Good Day Sunshine,” they raise the key half a tone. These subtle but effective techniques not only supply optimism about the song’s tender love affair but also leave the listener with a sense of well-being about the world in general…particularly on this lovely, sunny day. (Miles, 239 and Margotin and Guesdon, 338-339)

Note: This raised-ending technique had only been employed by The Beatles once before: in the concluding lines of “And I Love Her.”

A Joyful Song for Jane Asher – The majority of the songs that Paul had previously created for his love – the talented actress Jane Asher – focused on the couple’s struggle to maintain a long-distance relationship and two successful careers. But on Revolver, Paul penned two optimistic and contented love songs, “Here, There, and Everywhere” and “Good Day Sunshine.” In Long and Winding Roads, Womack notes that “Good Day Sunshine” is about “blissfully functional romantic love.” (p. 143) And in Twilight of the Gods, Mellers says, “The tune is a yodel equating the love experience with a sunny day.” After the stormy angst of “I’m Looking Through You,” “We Can Work It Out,” “You Won’t See Me,” and “For No One,” this is a happy change of pace.

Two potential “nudge-nudge, wink-winks”…and a third that is not! – From time to time, The Beatles enjoyed amusing themselves with covert lyrical references that were slightly naughty (Think the “tit-tit-tit-tit” chant in Rubber Soul’s song “Girl”). And some believe that “Good Day Sunshine” features a few nudge-nudge, wink-winks of its own.

For example, by 1965, some British politicians and the press had begun criticizing The Beatles for their Scouse expressions and accents. So, Paul – more than any of the others – strove to use “The Queen’s English.” But when recording “Good Day Sunshine,” Davies notes, “[O]n the word ‘laugh’ in the third line, I can detect Paul doing a short, flat Northern ‘ah’ just to amuse himself.” (p. 166) It’s a brief rebellion, but satisfying nonetheless.

Then, in the third verse, when Paul sings, “I love her and she’s loving me,” Spignesi and Lewis suggest that this unusual wording might have been a tactful hint that the beloved is, in fact, making love to him. (p. 275) Was this intended? Only Paul knows for sure.

However, one thing that Paul clearly expressed unequivocally was the fact that there was no hidden drug allusion in “Good Day Sunshine.” McCartney has readily admitted that he was referring to marijuana use in the lyrics of “Got to Get You Into My Life.” But repeatedly, Paul told reporters and critics alike that “Good Day Sunshine” is simply “a very happy song.” End of story.

A Fresh New Look:

As the only journalist to tour with The Beatles from “Day One to Day End” of the 1964 North American Tour whilst simultaneously serving as ghost writer for George Harrison’s “diary” in the Daily Express, Ivor Davis knew The Beatles quite well…as a friend and companion. He also lived the exciting days of 1964 and 1965 along with them, serving as an official commentator for soccer’s World Cup tournament in 1965. Ivor’s “insider” role gives him a unique vantage point as we discuss the Summer of 1966 and the events surrounding “Good Day Sunshine.”

Jude Southerland Kessler: Ivor, in Hunter Davies’s book Beatles Lyrics, he acknowledges the influence of American folk-rock (specifically The Lovin’ Spoonful’s hit “Daydream”) on “Good Day Sunshine.” But Davies goes on to say that within the song, he “can hear echoes of old British Music Hall tunes, the kind [Paul’s] father probably played for the whole family to sing along at Xmas.” (p. 166) Having been reared in London, what echoes and sounds of the music hall do you detect in this number?

Ivor Davis: YES, ABSOLUTELY. So much. It’s a joyful song – heralding better days to come. Don’t forget Jim McCartney was a bandleader – who had relished and reveled in all that Thirties Big Band music hall stuff – which according to Angie and Ruth McCartney – not surprisingly spilled over to Paul, and without a doubt, inspired this particular piece of music.

A quick history lesson, if I may. Back in the late Forties and Fifties, major British port cities, like London – my hometown – and of course Liverpool, were still emerging from a grim war that had flattened and left the landscape in shambles. That was a period when because of huge food shortages, Paul and the other lads were fed on such “delicacies” as atrocious egg powder – for breakfast. The powder was artificial eggs that were simply too horrible to eat. And we were all given ration books – resulting in many a hard years’ nights! And the Boys were fed cod-liver oil daily. So, times were not easy.

However, our local music halls were the perfect pick-me-ups, where mere working-class mortals could pay a few shillings and escape into the bosom of singers like, “Two Ton” Tessie O’Shea – (dubbed thus because she was an amply endowed performer – who in today’s world would never have been labeled in that somewhat demeaning way). Tessie, by pure coincidence, shared star billing with The Beatles when they first appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in February l964. Music halls and of course, popular radio comedy shows like The Goon Show, were comedic balm to help soothe all our World War II wounds. Our happy “escape hatch.”

Kessler: The Beatles Revolver LP was released in August of 1966, and several Beatles music experts point out that “Good Day Sunshine” very aptly captured the mood of that magical summer in the UK. In fact, Spignesi and Lewis say that the song’s lyrics “fit the mood, fit the sound, and fit the times.” What events do you recall in the Summer of ’66 that might have inspired this bright and euphoric song?

Davis: In the Summer of 1966, I was invited to the Beverly Hills home of actor singer Anthony Newley and his songwriting partner Leslie Bricusse where along with film director Sir Richard Attenborough (Dickie to us—back then) and legendary celebrity photographer Terry O’Neill, we watched England win the World Cup – beating arch rivals, the Germans. Joy was everywhere, we were all euphoric! We were 6,000 miles from England, but our joy spilled over as Britain celebrated revenge on those Huns – and the mood in Britain was pure ecstasy.

Kessler: Ivor, as a young teen, I remember listening to Revolver and being hard-pressed to find a song that I could “like” on this strange and innovative record. I usually loved anything Lennon, but John’s “She Said She Said” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” were “a bridge too far” for a small-town Southern girl. “Good Day Sunshine” seemed safer and more palatable. As a British foreign correspondent living in L.A. in 1966, what was your reaction to the songs on Revolver and to “Good Day Sunshine” in particular?

Davis: “Good Day Sunshine” was indeed so very palatable and uplifting. Who amongst us, growing up in the chilly and cold climes of the British winters, would not welcome the warm sun to begin our day?! I remember that creative Beach Boys boss Brian Wilson, who was in L.A., said that the joyous song inspired him beyond belief. It was, he said, his tonic, because Brian suffered from long running severe depression, and he was quick to acknowledge that after hearing “Sunshine,” he was uplifted and inspired – and immediately sat down to write more joyous music – such as his huge hit, “Good Vibrations.” And, of course, I can understand why “Sunshine” was so much more palatable to a small-town Southern girl like you, Jude! Only recently I learned that “Good Day Sunshine” was the song that was automatically played every morning for isolated residents and astronauts living in U.S. Space Stations – high in the heavens of outer space!

Kessler: Now, Ivor, you’re getting ready to re-release your book, The Beatles and Me on Tour, which covers your time with the lads in 1964 and 1965…and several episodes in later years as well. I know you’ve added some new material to the book and many new photos. Since we have you with us, can you give us some hints of what this new material might include? A sneak peek for your Fest Family?

Davis: Glad you brought that up! My 60^th anniversary edition of The Beatles and Me on Tour contains what I think to be a wonderful potpourri of information – along with some new fabulous photographs from some of the world’s leading Beatles cameramen including Henry Diltz, Harry Benson, Paul Harris, and the late Ron Joy and Curt Gunther. They captured The Beatles in ways no one else did!

Here are a few titbits: Paul McCartney and wife Nancy have bought a new “house” in Malibu – for a cool $5 million plus – but you would never guess where it is located! I’ll just say it’s walking distance from Barbra Streisand and Bob Dylan’s Malibu palaces.

And would you believe how I literally stumbled on this info? I speak to a bunch of world-famous celebrity entertainers, including Sting, and they told me how they were all so heavily influenced to become stars—by, of course, our very own Fab Four.

Then, there’s a wonderful story about the world-famous folk singer who admits she became a “Beatle groupie” —with her eye on John, even though her world-famous boyfriend told The Beatles to keep their hands off her! You’ll enjoy that story, Jude.

Kessler: That sounds intriguing! So, tons of new info and photos headed our way in the new book…AND we’re hoping you’ll be at the Chicago Fest to sign copies for each and every one of us, Ivor! Fingers crossed! Until then…thank you very, very much for being with us for the “Good Day Sunshine” blog, and from your Fest family, sincere congratulations on your new release!

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Changin’ Times in Hyper-Drive: Pop Culture in the Summer of ‘66

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Our Fest for Beatles Fans in-depth study of Revolver has reached the mid-point. Throughout 2023, we moved song-by-song through the album, enjoying the insights of Beatles music experts, historians, and biographers. Before plunging into Side Two of this transformative LP, we asked the Executive Editor of Beatlefan magazine, Al Sussman, to put Revolver into perspective against the rich backdrop of 1966’s diverse and creative plethora of hit songs, films, and television programs.

Al is a lifelong member of our Fest family, and for many years assisted Mark and Carol in the planning of the Fest experience. He also hosted many of the weekend’s panels and events. Furthermore, Al is the author of the respected historical work, Changin’ Times: 101 Days That Changed a Generation about the importance of that unique historical period between 22 November 1963 and 1 March 1964.

With his meticulous, introspective look at history, Al shares his insights into the kaleidoscopic pop culture of 1966. Sit back and enjoy! – Jude Southerland Kessler

Most Beatles fans know that Brian Wilson’s Beach Boys masterpiece Pet Sounds had a major influence on The Beatles, particularly Paul McCartney, and many have seen the photos of the group in the studio perusing the new Rolling Stones LP Aftermath. And of course, The Beatles had a mutual admiration society going with the Byrds and their folk-rock brethren the Lovin’ Spoonful and the Mamas & Papas.

The pop culture world of the summer of 1966 was awash with such communal creativity, and much of that was centered in Swinging London, but also in Los Angeles and New York, in the burgeoning scene in San Francisco and in small southern studios in Memphis and Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Indeed, The Beatles flirted with the idea of recording at the Stax studios in Memphis that year but never quite made it happen.

The week that the single of “Paperback Writer”/“Rain,” the first release from the sessions that produced Revolver, reached American record stores, the Stones had the No. 1 single with “Paint It, Black,” which featured Brian Jones on sitar – just months after George Harrison had brought that instrument to the pop world on Rubber Soul’s “Norwegian Wood.”

But folk-rock was very much a part of the Top 10, with the Spoonful’s “Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind,” the Mamas & Papas’ “Monday Monday” and Simon & Garfunkel’s “I Am A Rock.” West Coast pop craftsmanship was represented by Gary Lewis & the Playboys’ “Green Grass,” which was largely recorded by the L.A. session players known as the Wrecking Crew and arranged by session pro Leon Russell.

1966 was arguably soul music’s greatest year, and that Top 10 featured two classic R&B ballads: Percy Sledge’s “When A Man Loves A Woman” and James Brown’s “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World.” And smack in the middle of the Top 10 was a soon-to-be No. 1 by that standard-bearer for traditional pop music, Frank Sinatra, with “Strangers In the Night.” Indeed, in July, the Chairman of the Board would have a No. 1 single with that song and a chart-topping LP named after the hit.

But The Beatles would oust Frank from both perches with their “Paperback Writer” single and the “Yesterday”…And Today album, once the “butcher cover” controversy had subsided and the album was released with the more traditional cover.

Unlike the tightly-formatted charts of the 21^st Century, musical variety was the hallmark of what one heard on the radio that summer. The album charts were dominated by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Their What Now My Love LP spent eight weeks at No. 1 that late spring/early summer and, for the week of June 18, Herb and the Brass had three of the Top Five, with Whipped Cream and Other Delights and Going Places also in that Top Five.

By mid-July, “Paperback Writer” had been ousted from the top of the charts by a two-year-old recording of a song written by Brill Building songwriters Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. Tommy James and the Shondells’ recording of “Hanky Panky” suddenly exploded as a result of airplay from a Pittsburgh disc jockey. After topping the charts for a couple of weeks, “Hanky Panky” was dislodged by a slice of in-your-face hard rock. The Troggs’ “Wild Thing” became a rock anthem that Jimi Hendrix would perform the following summer in climaxing the Monterey Pop Festival.

The summer of ’66 was the hottest of the decade in the U.S., so it was fitting that the No. 1 single for much of August was the Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Summer In The City.” If one wanted to escape the heat and humidity, a visit to a movie theater was a great option, with the fare on the screen nearly as varied as it was on the radio.

There was the domestic potboiler film treatment of Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton, the all-star cast Cold War comedy The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming!, the scenic Born Free, yet another in the series of increasingly bad vehicles for Elvis Presley, Paradise Hawaiian Style, the science fiction adventure film Fantastic Voyage, and a romantic comedy out of Swinging London that made a star out of 30-year-old Michael Caine, Alfie, which also starred Paul McCartney’s then-girlfriend Jane Asher.

Television’s three networks were in rerun season during that summer of ’66, but interesting changes were on the horizon. For instance, NBC’s Monday night rock showcase, Hullabaloo, was canceled after a season-and-a-half and was replaced in September by a sitcom about a rock ‘n’ roll band called The Monkees. Modeled after the two Beatles feature films, The Monkees was a pioneering effort in the area of music video, and the group created for the show had tremendous success right from the start, just as some younger, more conservative Beatles fans were becoming disenchanted with that summer’s controversies and the adventurous new Beatles music on Revolver.

The Monkees (the show and the group) were a tailor-made alternative, and their first single, “Last Train To Clarksville,” was just starting to get radio airplay in late August, even as The Beatles were finishing up what would be their final tour.

It was in the summer of ’66 that rock radio listeners got an alternative to the screaming DJs and pimple cream commercials of Top 40 radio. As a result of a Federal Communications Commission ruling that AM stations could not simulcast their programming on their FM affiliates full time, other forms of programming had to be installed. So, in New York at the end of July, the FM affiliate of WOR began playing rock music but without constant jingles and other characteristics of Top 40. WOR-FM played the current hits but also new music not yet on the charts.

For instance, young Janis Ian’s song about interracial dating, “Society’s Child,” which wouldn’t become a hit single until the following year, received heavy exposure on WOR-FM. By that fall, when the station began using on-air personalities, former Top 40 DJs like Murray The K and Scott Muni, WOR-FM became one of the first commercial outlets for an intelligent presentation of rock music

But, whichever side of the radio dial was one’s preferred listening form, the summer of ’66 was brimming over with great and lasting music. At any moment, one could hear the likes of Dusty Springfield’s “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me,” Petula Clark’s “I Couldn’t Live Without Your Love,” the Hollies’ “Bus Stop,” Motown’s “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg” by the Temptations, “Reach Out, I’ll Be There” by the Four Tops and “You Can’t Hurry Love” by the Supremes.

Bobby Hebb and the Cyrkle, among the opening acts on that final Beatles tour, each nearly topped the national singles chart with “Sunny” and “Red Rubber Ball,” respectively. There was great soul music from Wilson Pickett (“Land Of 1000 Dances”), Lee Dorsey (“Working In The Coal Mine”), the Capitols (“Cool Jerk”), and Billy Stewart (“Summertime”).

A vocal group from New Jersey, the Happenings, put a Four Seasons-style spin on the end-of-summer ’50s hit “See You In September” while the Seasons themselves were re-interpreting Cole Porter’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”

Donovan, who emerged in 1965 as a Dylan-esque folkie, re-emerged with a new pop sound, courtesy of producer Mickie Most, and a chart-topping single with “Sunshine Superman” while Brill Building-trained singer/songwriter Neil Diamond had his breakthrough hit, “Cherry Cherry.” And there was so much more…

And, by the second week in September, the No. 1 album in the U.S. was an amazing, transformative LP by The Beatles, awash with creativity from London. Revolver opened a new chapter in their already-revolutionary career.

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Revolver Deep Dive Part 7: She Said She Said

By Jude Southerland Kessler

Revolver

Side One, Track Six

“She Said She Said”

by Jude Southerland Kessler and Christine Feldman-Barrett

Through 2023, the Fest for Beatles Fans blog has been enjoying some time well spent with the songs on The Beatles brilliant LP, Revolver. This month, Christine Feldman-Barrett joins Jude Southerland Kessler, the author of The John Lennon Series, for a fresh, new look at one of the most beloved Beatles tracks of all time. Christine Feldman-Barrett is a youth culture historian and Beatles scholar.

Originally from the United States, she is a Senior Lecturer in the School of Humanities, Languages and Social Science at Griffith University in Queensland, Australia. She is the author of A Women’s History of the Beatles, which was published with Bloomsbury in 2021 and was awarded the 2022 Open Publication Prize by the Australia-New Zealand branch of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (IASPM). Her other publications include “We are the Mods”: A Transnational History of a Youth Subculture (Peter Lang, 2009) and – as editor – Lost Histories of Youth Culture (Peter Lang, 2015) and The Life, Death, and Afterlife of the Record Store: A Global History (Bloomsbury, 2023). Feldman-Barrett and her work have been featured in the Washington Post, the Guardian, the BBC, and ABC radio Australia. She has appeared as a guest on numerous Beatles podcasts and is on the editorial board of The Journal of Beatles Studies, which is published by Liverpool University Press. And best of all, Christine will be at the New York Fest for Beatles Fans, 9-11 February 2024! Come meet her in person!!!

What’s Standard:

Dates Recorded: 21 June 1966

Time Recorded: 7.00 p.m. – 3.45 a.m.

Studio: EMI Studios, Studio 2

Tech Team:

Producer: George Martin

Engineer: Geoff Emerick

Second Engineer: Phil McDonald

In Studio 2, The Beatles worked for 9 (number 9!) hours to record this final song for the Revolver LP. “She Said She Said” came into the session unnamed and unrehearsed. Through 25 takes, the boys assembled all the elements and honed the song. The rhythm track of Take 3 was deemed “best” and onto this, John superimposed his lead vocal…and John and George dubbed in their backing vocals. As Mark Lewisohn explains in The Beatles Recording Sessions, “A reduction mix vacated one of the four tracks where an additional guitar and organ part (played by John) were soon taped.” (p. 84) The role of Paul and the bass line heard on this song will be discussed in the “What’s Changed” segment of this blog.

Instrumentation and Musicians:*

John Lennon, the composer, is playing either his 1961 Fender Stratocaster or his 1965 Epiphone ES-230 TD, Casino.

Paul McCartney says he did not sing or play an instrument on this track. (See “What’s Changed”)But many sources still list him as providing the bass on his Rickenbacker 4001S before having an argument with one or more of The Beatles and walking out of the session.

George Harrison is playing either his 1961 Fender Stratocaster with synchronized tremolo, his 1964 Gibson SG Standard with Gibson Maestro Vibrato, or his 1965 Epiphone ES-230TD, Casino with Selmer Bigsby B7 vibrato.

Ringo Starr is playing his 1964 Ludwig Oyster Black Pearl “Super Classic” drum set.

*This information is from Hammack’s The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, 154.

Sources: Lewisohn, The Complete Beatles Chronicle, 226, Lewisohn, The Beatles: The Recording Sessions, 84, The Beatles, The Anthology, 209, Margotin and Guesdon, All the Songs, 336-337, Winn, That Magic Feeling, 27-28, Womack, Long and Winding Roads, 142-143, Hammack, The Beatles Recording Reference Manual, Vol. 2, 154-156, Rodriguez, Revolver: How The Beatles Reimagined Rock’n’Roll, 149-151, Turner, A Hard Day’s Write, 111, Davies, The Beatles Lyrics, 164-165, Miles, Many Years From Now, 288, Spizer, The Beatles for Sale on Parlophone Records, 215, Spizer, The Beatles Rubber Soul to Revolver, 219, MacDonald, Revolution in the Head, 168-169, Mellers, Twilight of the Gods, 75-6, Spignesi and Lewis, 100 Best Beatles Songs,186-188, Spitz, 581, and Riley, Tell Me Why, 188-189.

What’s Changed:

Experimentation with Meter – A month ago, if someone had asked me which Beatle most experimented with meter and tempo changes, I would have swiftly responded, “Oh, Paul McCartney.” But as it turns out, that is not true. Here are the songs in which John Lennon experimented with meter change: “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite,” (4/4 in the verses, 3/4 waltz in the instrumental bridge), “All You Need is Love,” (intricately alternates between 4/4 and 3/4), and “Across the Universe” (Verse One is 4/4 until it reaches the last bit of the verse, “across the universe,” and that is 5/4. Verse Four repeats almost the same thing but this time the words “way across the universe” are in 5/4.) Of course, John also employed myriad meter changes in “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” and “Happiness is a Warm Gun” (2/4, 3/4, and 4/4!!!)

Two of the earliest Lennon/McCartney songs to dabble in meter change were “We Can Work it Out” (recorded during 20 October 1965) and “She Said She Said” from June of 1966. As Ian MacDonald points out in Revolution in the Head, “She Said She Said” is “rhythmically one of the most irregular things Lennon ever wrote.” (p. 169) It not only features a signature change into 3/4 during the “She said, ‘You don’t understand what I said.’ I said, ‘No, no, no, you’re wrong,’” portion of the song. The disjointed, otherworldly sensation of a hazy dream state or an LSD fog – accentuated by the eerie consideration of “what it’s like to be dead” – manifests in an erratic, herky-jerky zombie-esque arrangement. Dreamlike – nightmarish, really – the strange tempo pushes and pulls, threatening to obliterate sanity. It’s a powerful tool placed alongside the unusual instrumentation and The Beatles’ vocal elements.

Possible Limited McCartney Input – Although “She Said She Said” was the closing track for Side One of Revolver, it was actually the final song recorded for the LP. The Beatles had begun work on Revolver on Wednesday, 6 April 1966, (Lewisohn, The Beatles: The Recording Sessions, 70) and they’d been working quite closely together, hours on end for almost four months. So, it’s no surprise that on this final evening, tensions were running high. Paul recalls, “I think we’d had a barney or something, and I said, ‘Oh, fuck you!’ and they said, ‘Well, we’ll do it.’ I think George played bass.” (Margotin and Guesdon, 337) Note: In The Beatles Lyrics, Hunter Davies qualifies this by saying, “…Paul does not appear on that track, not as a singer anyway, though he might have added a bit of bass afterwards.” (p. 164)

However, John C. Winn in That Magic Feeling states, “Paul became the first Beatle to walk out on a session when he had an unspecified argument with the others, although not before contributing to the rhythm track.” Hammack in The Beatles Recording Reference Manual agrees, saying that on the 21^st of June, “Take 3 was best, and a good thing, too, because afterwards, McCartney got in a fight with Lennon and left the studio.” (p. 154) But in Many Years From Now, Paul firmly states that he did not perform on the track: “I think it was one of the only Beatles records I never played on.” (Miles, 288) Did he, or didn’t he? This shall remain one of the great mysteries of Beatles history.

Lyrics by Lennon and Harrison – On 21 June 1966, in an interview with Melody Maker (which would appear in the magazine on the 25^th) John revealed that he still had one song to record for the new LP, but that he had only written “about three lines so far.” George Harrison recalls trekking over to Kenwood during that time frame to help John “wrap up the composition.” George recalls that he suggested John incorporate a waltz-tempo fragment of a song (“When I was a boy, everything was ri-ight/Everything was ri-ight…”) that John had formerly created and had left unused. George says they worked together to link this song fragment to the rest of “She Said She Said.” (Winn, That Magic Feeling, 27)

A “Story” Version of Lennon’s Lifelong Theme – John insisted that while Paul wrote “songs about other things,” John mainly wrote about himself. And in “She Said She Said,” John is still focusing on his autobiographical pain: the devastation that death leaves in its wake, the chaos of sorrow and loss. However, in “She Said She Said,” John shares this torment via the story of a woman whom he supposedly encounters…a strange female who tells him that she “knows what it’s like to be dead,” that she “knows what it is to be sad” – a woman who makes him feel as if he’s “never been born.” In Twilight of the Gods, Mellers admits that this appears to be an older woman, perhaps “an aunt or mother.”

Indeed, although the line, “I know what it is to be dead” was inspired by a comment from Peter Fonda at a 1965 Los Angeles pool party, Fonda has nothing to do with the subject of this song. John is once again singing his heart, bemoaning the devastating loss of Julia Lennon, “the girl in a million my friend.” But here – for the first time – he is doing so in a narrative format. In this story-song, the familiar woman who rules his entire musical catalog appears as surreal: as a ghost, a spirit, or a figment of his imagination.

This is unique territory for John, who up to this point has stuck very closely and literally to the poignant narrative of Julia’s loss twice in his life: first, when he was separated from her in childhood and later, when as a teenager he lost her a second time, to death. In “Help!,” “I’ll Cry Instead,” “Not A Second Time,” “(You’ve Got To) Hide Your Love Away,” “Nowhere Man,” “I’m A Loser,” “Julia,” and so many more, John consistently poured out his heartbreaking tale without imaginative embellishment. But here, the old story – no less painful in an artful form – is entangled in the bizarre trappings of a dream state. The same fears, pain, and anguish are merely housed in a unique presentation.

A Fresh New Look:

It was a joy to work “across the universe” (she, in Australia and I, in Louisiana) with Dr. Christine Feldman-Barrett to trace the musical and storyline innovations inherent in Lennon’s brilliant “She Said She Said.” Christine will be at the February 9-11, 2024 New York Fest for Beatles Fans to share her respected work on A Women’s History of The Beatles. We welcome Christine to the Fest Blog and can’t wait to hear her speak in just a few months!

Jude Southerland Kessler: “She Said She Said” has been called one of John’s most revealing biographical songs. Tim Riley in Tell Me Why states, “the singer is wrestling with feelings he barely understands – inadequacy, helplessness and a profound fear. Because Lennon so obviously feels these emotions as he plays and sings them, the music is a direct connection to his psyche.” (p. 188) What is your reaction to this assessment?

Christine Feldman-Barrett: Unless someone had insider information at the time, no one in The Beatles’ audience circa 1966 would have known that the song was about one of John’s first LSD experiences – nor that that some of its lyrical content was about a ‘he,’ namely, actor Peter Fonda. Instead, what comes through in the lyrics is very much a sense of emotional confusion. That feeling is certainly key to the words of “She Said She Said.” However, there’s also an element of intellectual detachment to the narrator’s telling of this story. Unlike 1965’s “Help!,” which is lyrically direct in showcasing Lennon’s vulnerability, “She Said She Said” is very much head over heart. Needless to say, a “heady” reading of the song makes perfect sense once listeners know it’s about John Lennon taking a hallucinogenic drug.

The track’s psychedelic origin story aside, what’s especially interesting upon first listen is that it seems the narrator is having a deep and meaningful – if also somewhat esoteric – conversation with a woman. I don’t think I had ever encountered that kind of male-female dialogue in a song before I listened to “She Said She Said.” And though the “he said” parts of the lyrics are seemingly critical of what the woman is saying, the man in the song is nonetheless hooked into this conversation for a while (until, that is, “he’s ready to leave”). As Jacqueline Warwick states in her 2002 book chapter, “I’m Eleanor Rigby: Female Identity and Revolver,” the song seems to be about “a woman who will not stop talking and a man who doesn’t want to listen (but has difficulty tearing himself away).” (p. 61)The fact that something “she” says makes the song’s male protagonist want to question his existence was something completely different to my young ears in 1979, and it is definitely something that would have been atypical for a rock song in 1966.

Even when I was a child listening to this track, I liked the idea that the woman in the song – and her purpose within the lyrical story – is unusual, mysterious. She does not come across as a love interest, as would hold true for other, earlier Beatles songs or songs by other artists circa 1965 or 1966. Instead, this woman is an enigmatic character who wants to discuss life and death with her conversation partner – even if it upsets him – and even if it makes him question his entire sense of self and the world as he knows it.

Along these lines – with a conflict between man and woman in the lyrics – I also think about how Cynthia Lennon’s 2005 memoir John addresses how her husband’s LSD use affected their marriage. Cynthia had no interest in the drug and found it frightening while John found it profoundly life changing and affirming – maybe because it brought him out of his “known self” or challenged his sense of himself as a Beatle. In Cynthia’s estimation, however, LSD drove a wedge through their marriage (see, for example, her thoughts on this in Chapter 13 of John). If John’s perspective of himself and the world was forever altered, it created a new type of relational space in which Cynthia likely felt she no longer truly belonged.

Kessler: Christine, the closing song on Side One of a Beatles LP was traditionally something rather remarkable. On Please Please Me, it was the title track, “Please Please Me.” On A Hard Day’s Night, it was the Ivor Novello award-winning, “Can’t Buy Me Love.” On Help!, the closer was “Ticket to Ride.” What elements of “She Said She Said,” in your opinion, recommend it into this pivotal position on Revolver?

Feldman-Barrett: That’s a great question. It makes me think about how the other closing track on Revolver, “Tomorrow Never Knows,” is the one that often vies for the spot of “Best Beatles Song” (alongside “A Day in the Life”) in most rankings and lists I’ve come across. But for my money, “She Said She Said” should be near the top as well. One of the reasons it’s remarkable is because The Beatles – John first and foremost – are trying to sonically achieve something really very difficult with this song: relaying the experiences of an acid trip.

While we take the notion of “psychedelic rock” for granted today, the idea of replicating such a singular experience in musical form could not have felt straightforward or easy. While Lennon was able to describe to George Martin the sound and feel he wanted for “Tomorrow Never Knows” (i.e., monks chanting from atop a mountain) – and he had Paul’s tape loops to assist – how would it be possible for just guitars, drums, and vocals to aurally mirror LSD’s effects? Though I have never taken LSD myself, reading anecdotes about acid trips and having had others share their experiences of them with me, it’s clear that this song is trying to create a sonic representation of something that is often described as comprising many visual sensations and hallucinations. For example, in The Beatles as Musicians: Revolver through Anthology (1999), Walter Everett theorizes that the lead guitar’s echoing of the vocal melody throughout the song is a motif meant to intimate the visual trails that are said to occur while taking LSD. (p. 66) Moreover, the unusual and changing rhythms of the song – clearly led by Ringo’s drumming – seem to capture the oddity of time itself while tripping.

While all music deals with and works within time signatures, trying to get the feeling of psychedelic time distortion just right – and without the whole song falling apart – is such an interesting thing for The Beatles to have attempted here. And the fact that it’s mostly achieved through just their playing and singing – without any overt studio tricks like with “Tomorrow Never Knows” – is phenomenal. For all these reasons, “She Said She Said” definitely deserves this pivotal position on the Revolver LP.

Kessler: Christine, this was the final song recorded for Revolver, and Ian MacDonald says “Lennon pull[ed] off a last-minute coup with this track, going some way towards evening up the score in his on-going competition with McCartney.” (Revolution in the Head, 169) Although Paul has more songs to his credit on the LP than John does, MacDonald says, “‘She Said She Said’ is the outstanding track on Revolver.” (p. 169) Your reaction?

Feldman-Barrett: I absolutely agree with Ian MacDonald’s reading of “She Said She Said,” and I am always surprised when I hear Beatles aficionados dismiss it as a kind of throwaway track. I know that for some, this has to do with the claim that Paul didn’t play bass on it (though the claim is disputed). In any case, that dismissive view of this song is difficult for me to understand. Then again, I am a particular fan of The Beatles’ late ’65 to early ’67 sound, and – to me – this song typifies everything I love about that period of their music-making.

It’s clear that McCartney’s songs on Revolver are magnificent examples of his artistry in so many ways – and that he was really growing as a songwriter with this album – but when I think of Revolver – I tend to think of John’s songs first, with “She Said She Said” and “Tomorrow Never Knows” the two that immediately spring to mind. They are both oddly thought-provoking and memorable. While Paul’s songs on Revolver are filled with pathos and are finely crafted “story songs,” I find the otherworldly aural beauty of Lennon’s contributions more intriguing listen after listen. And of all the “John songs” on Revolver, “She Said She Said” is the ultimate earworm. Its melody is nothing short of addictive. Little wonder that MacDonald also suggests Lennon is at his creative peak with The Beatles during this time. His songs on Revolver – though fewer in number than those led by McCartney – are landmark moments in rock music history due to their sheer inventiveness.

Kessler: Christine, when this song debuted, I was a pre-teen living in small-town North Louisiana, and I remember being utterly bewildered by the track. Now, thanks in large part to Robert Rodriguez’s book Revolver: How The Beatles Re-Imagined Rock’n’Roll, I can appreciate the layered artistry of the work. But it still isn’t one of my favorite Beatles songs. How did you respond when you first encountered “She Said She Said,” and how do you see it now?

Feldman-Barrett: I was seven (almost eight) years old when I first heard this song in 1979, and I loved it straight away. As an adult looking back on this moment, my initially enthusiastic first reaction to “She Said She Said” kind of bewilders me on the one hand, as it doesn’t seem the kind of Beatles track a little girl listening to Revolver would necessarily enjoy. On the other hand, I’ve always been drawn to a jangly guitar sound, which is so prominent in this song. I know it’s been said that this was the Byrds’ influence on the song, but I don’t think I had heard the Byrds’ music yet by this time.

In any case, George’s lead guitar line, which opens the track, commanded my attention to such a degree that I could not help but be intrigued by the rest of the song. Also, while the song showcases a dramatic change in rhythm and meter, it’s nonetheless always been a Beatles song that makes me want to get up and dance. The lyrical content of “She Said She Said” was not something I thought much about until I was a teenager. Being part of the Goth subculture during those years – and a Goth who hadn’t abandoned The Beatles – I know the brooding, existentially angsty nature of the song’s lyrics was definitely appealing. Despite its attractiveness to me at that time, “She Said She Said” is a song that has traveled really well with me throughout my life. It always gels with or complements other music I enjoy.

Since my sister held onto the Revolver LP she bought for us in 1979, I ended up buying it on CD soon after watching The Beatles Anthology when it first aired on American TV in November 1995. I’d play “She Said She Said” on repeat in my car driving around Los Angeles, which is where I lived at the time. Since the song’s origin story took place in LA, I suppose that was fitting – but, mainly, it made sense that I wanted to hear it a lot, given that I was also listening to Britpop bands like Oasis and Blur. There’s such a clear A-to-B line from “She Said She Said” to the sound of those bands, most all of whom cite The Beatles as one of their greatest inspirations. And it still remains my favorite Beatles song. There’s something magical about The Beatles’ early psychedelic songs that make me return to them again and again. For me, “She Said She Said” has all the elements that make me love their mid-period sound best: catchy guitar lines, inventive drumming, and vocal melodies that always makes me want to sing along.

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