Monday , November 16, 2009
The Young Person's Guide to the Beatles: Firing Off on Revolver
You have no idea how long it took me to come up with a punny headline for this piece that didn't sound like an allusion to masturbation! Which sucks, because I still think "Laura Jane Jerks Off to Revolver" would have been a great title.
Since my intense love for the Beatles is written both across and upon my arms, I end up talking to a lot of people about Their Beatles Opinions, which is occasionally annoying, but generally informative. My point? 7 out of 10 Beatles Opinionators deem Revolver their favourite Beatles album. Revolver is in no way my favourite Beatles album, but still- I can see how, if you weren't me, it could be. Revolver is most definitely the COOLEST Beatles album, so if you love the Beatles less than I do, which you probably do, why not "unload" (I mean, "unpack") their discography in terms of straight-up coolness? And when I say "coolness," I mean coolness like how James Dean or Keith Richards is cool to your Mom, or like how "The Kid Was A Killer" by Keith West is cool to me, or like how Father Yod was cool to Thurston Moore four years ago.
IF THE BEATLES WERE A YEAR:
Pre-Beatlemania Beatles are January, Beatlemania Beatles are February/March, Rubber Soul is late April, Sgt. Pepper is the sweaty, humid thick of summer, The White Album is October (to correspond with celebrity Libra John Lennon's birthday, of course), Let It Be is November- the impending doom and gloom of cruel dark Winter, and Abbey Road (not counting all the songs with "sun" in their titles) is December- The End.
And Revolver would be exact today.
Revolver is the center of the center, the middle of the middlemost month. Revolver is June. Revolver is thirty-five minutes and one second long. Revolver is confused, and Revolver is confusing. Revolver is important because it is stuck in the middle. Revolver is "Interim Phase Beatles"- it explains how four skinny lads from Nowheresville, Northern England who wrote songs about hand-holding and seeing girls yesterday mutated into sketchy, goofo-mystickal pseudo-prophets who, forty-one years ago today, taught the Normiest of Normies not only how to think outside the box, but how to make the box disappear.
What I, Laura Jane Faulds of nogoodforme.com, love most about Revolver is how, beyond its being transitory, it is fucking awkward. It is eleven years old. Hopeful, but rarely optimistic. It asks no questions, only wonders. it is dreamy, stoned, half-awake, half-asleep. It is impossible for us, all of us, today, to listen to Revolver without knowing that "Strawberry Fields," Sgt. Pepper, Rishikesh, Let It Be and "Come Together" are up next. But the Beatles didn't know! It's all there, laying dormant- When you look back at your adolescent self, you can see the seeds of you now, inside you then. But how could you have known?
It all was only sleeping.
1. Taxman:
George Harrison is greedy, a fiscal conservative, Margaret Thatcher. Life's so tough when you're in the most famous band in the world, & so have been thrust into a higher tax bracket. Did the sentiment behind "Taxman" embarrass Meditatio-George of the future? Did he feel guilty later on, for whining about how a fraction of his not-so-hard-earned dollars, I mean "quid," were distributed to the working class? George Harrison grew up skint. His daddy was a bus driver; he was raised in government housing. Is "Taxman," above all else, self-loathing? Is George subconsciously apologizing for his self-defined "trashiness"?
The guitar solo in this song is Paul's, as is the far-away echo-y count-in you hear after the two distorted ones. John Lennon helped George with its lyrics, which explains why they don't suck, and are kind of funny. I don't know if this is for sure the case, but "My advice for those who die/Declare the pennies on your eyes" sounds like classick JL. In the early 1990s, George Harrison began performing "Taxman" live again, and added a new lyric: "If you're overweight/I'll tax your fat." Lame.
George Harrison is the Care Bear with the rain cloud on his tummy of the Beatles. He is a grumpy baby. He was a miserly eighty-year-old when he was twenty-two. "Taxman" is jangly, swingy, fast-paced and ever-listenable, but it's annoying, because it's negative. It's a drag. I'm not a rich Beatle; I don't relate. I don't get taxed a whole lot. Mostly, I get tax returns- I could be on welfare if I wanted! "Taxman" is one of the only "Damn the Man" anthems ever written that makes me side with The Man. The other one that springs to mind is "I'm Afraid of Americans."
Cry, Crybabies, cry.
2. Eleanor Rigby:
Remember that scene in Friends with Money when they are all out to dinner and Catherine Keener says "I don't get Spongebob [Squarepants]" and her dick husband is all mean to her about it? Well,
I don't get "Eleanor Rigby."
"Eleanor Rigby" doesn't work on me. If it's my fault or Paul's, I will never know. Does the weight of it go over my head, or is it actually just emotionally trite? What did John Lennon think? Does the sun rise in the East? Do[es] I, or you, or Paul McCartney, like to eat, eat, eat eaples and baneaneas?
I am listening to "Eleanor Rigby" right now. All these proper names. Father Mackenzie? There is a real gravestone in Liverpool Whatever Cemetery for Eleanor Rigby that Paul McCartney guesses he saw and took stock of subconsciously, which is cool, how that kind of thing can happen to a brain. I hate when you can hear Paul McCartney's dumb Rene Magritte worship in his lyrical content. I hate Rene Magritte, his flowery, softcore take on surrealism (which I don't even like as it is). I guess that's also what kills "Rigby" for me- it's "weird," but it is "weird for Normies," and it's on the same album as "Tomorrow Never Knows," so who cares? It's less experimental than "Norwegian Wood."
And it tries too hard to be powerful. Poor Eleanor Rigby. She died. Nobody came to her funeral. Probably because she sucked! I bet she complained about the taxman a lot, too.
Cry, Rigby, Cry.
3. I'm Only Sleeping:
"I'm Only Sleeping" is Revolver's first hit of John, so it's really refreshing. Also, comforting. And/or centering. Not to mention charming! Gladdening! Exhilirating! Electrifying! Automatic! Systematic! Hydromatic! Greased Lightning.
Have you ever heard of a concept called "Sleepy Beatles"? Probably not, unless you are me. "Sleepy Beatles" is a phrase I made up to describe Beatles songs like "I'm Only Sleeping" and "Girl" and "Blue Jay Way" and "Strawberry Fields Forevskies." They sound like the sonic equivalent of waking up at 2 PM on a sunny Sunday in summer, eating a bagel, taking fifteen bong hits, watching a Hills marathon on MTV, taking a three-hour nap, waking up, and opening your eyes. More precisely, "Sleepy Beatles" is the sonic equivalent of the ways your eyes looked when you woke up just then.
Here is a photographic triptych of yours truly facially exemplifying the concept of "Sleepy Beatles":
God, I am just too talented at looking like Sleepy Beatles! It's scary. Anyway, "I'm Only Sleeping" is the sleepiest "Sleepy Beatles" song there is. It is also one of two John Lennon-penned Beatles songs about insomnia. Thankfully, "I'm Only Sleeping" is the one that doesn't make me want to kill myself. Personally, I suffer from horrific insomnia constantly, and find the best way to deal with it is to accept defeat, and just think "Oh well. I can't sleep. But at least I'm lying in bed, which is comfortable, and easier than working, so I might as well make the best of the situation, enjoy myself while I'm here, and spend the next four hours curled up in the fetal position while making up stories in my head about how awesome life will be when I'm a famous writer."
It's weird how John Lennon was so aligned to this posi-core insomnia strategy in 1966, but by 1968, he was writing "I'm So Tired," which delineates exactly how not to deal with insomnia garbage. It makes me sad when John Lennon regresses. I want to gently punch him in the neck. Dude- you'd probably have a better chance of falling asleep if you stopped mentally obsessing about it and being a jerk to some man named Sir Walter Raleigh for no reason!
Cry, "I'm So Tired"-era John Lennon, cry.
4. Love You To:
George Harrison would love you (/me?) to what? That question is never answered. "[I'd] love you to stop taxing me, Taxman?" "[I'd] love you to start taking me seriously as a worthy songwriter in my own right, Paul McCartney and John Lennon?" "[I'd] love you to be a less shitty loser wifey, Pattie Boyd?" "[I'd] love you to nothing, because I am lyrically incompetent and these words are meaningless?"
Probably b) or d). Pattie Boyd sucked, but George Harrison seemed to kind of like her.
it always surprises me when people sing about "making love" in songs from the 60s; like, weren't you not supposed to talk about that then? I have very little to say about "Love You To," except for that the part of the sitar intro that plays at 0:08 seconds into it sounds exactly like the first part of the "Simpsons" theme song. "Love You To" is unexceptional; the sitar sounds amazing, but even that isn't enough to save it from anything more than mediocrity.
Cry, George Harrison, Cry.
5. Here, There and Everywhere:
Most of my affection towards "Here, There and Everywhere" stems from how traditional it is compared to the rest of Revolver. I use the word "traditional" to mean "traditio-soppy-Beatles," or "traditio-pre-Beatles-schlop-pop." It's like "And I Love Her," or "Mr. Moonlight" even. It's a bit regressive, but then again, it's also a lot like "Because," which comes four years later. But maybe "Because" is regressive too?
"Here, There and Everywhere" is totally McCartney at his "hot-shot melody boy"-ish-est. Also: hot-shot harmony boy. "H, T & E" reminds you of how musically talented he was (is) compared to John Lennon, but it also reminds you of how boring he is (was) compared to John Lennon.
Cry, Paulie, cry.
6. Yellow Submarine:
I fear that the Beatles will disappear. I fear that, in ten years' time, it will be entirely likely that an unexceptional thirteen-year-old from Arkansas will never have heard the word "Beatles," only "beetle." I fear that, in ten years' time, the Beatles will sound like "A-Tisket, A-Tasket" to the youth of then-day. I fear that, in ten years' time, the Beatles' legacy will be reduced to children's songs. When I was a child, my preschool class would stand in a big circle and all hold hands and sing "Octopus' Garden" and wiggle our arms so that we all shimmied as a unit, a mass, a Giant King Octopus of weird four-year-old energy, stubby arms and legs, jellyfish style.
I fear that, in ten years' time, that Arkansian Normie-in-training will never have heard the melody to "Hey Jude," but will know "Yellow Submarine" as well as s/he knows, say, "Baa Baa Black Sheep." Only s/he will not know where it came from. So it is a good thing that I am writing The Young Person's Guide to the Beatles. I am doing my part.
Really, Yellow Sub? I don't know. I always skip it. It took me up 'til about a month ago to figure out that he's singing "In the town where I was born." I always thought it was "In the turn where I was born," and that was just something English people say as a synonym for "area" or "acreage" or "estate" or "nabe."
What if the Yell-ow Sub was attacked by the Octopus?!?!?! Shit.
Cry, Ringo Starr, Cry.
7. She Said She Said:
Revolver is chock-full of throwaways, but that's okay, because they are all sunny and psych-y and jangly, and the worst Beatles songs are still better than the best songs on rekkids like Tomorrow by Tomorrow and Introspection by the End and Her Satanic Majesties Request by the Rolling Stoners (JOKE NOT TYPO), not counting "Citadel" and "In Another Land."
"She Said She Said" is about an afternoon The Beatles lived in the summer of 1965. They were staying at a mansion (or, "turn") in Beverly Hills that Eppy had rented for them, kickin' it poolside with Peter Fonda and The Byrds. Everybody was on acid, except for Paul "Prissy Little Girl" McCartney (also known as Paul "I Was Straight Edge When Ian MacKaye Was Still In Diapers" McCartney). Peter "Buzzkill" Fonda would not stop going on and on about his "nearly fatal self-inflicted childhood gunshot accident," which undoubtedly killed everybody else's chill summertime LSD buzz. Can you imagine having some nerd being all "I know what's it like to be dead!" when you're just trying to bum around and think about how the sun is pink now? Ugh! The Beatles thought Peter Fonda was a loser. And I trust the Beatles, except for George, when he is talking about taxes. And so: Peter Fonda is a loser to me too.
Cry, Peter Fonda, cry.
8. Good Day Sunshine:
LJ'S FREUDIAN SLIP OF THE WEEK: I was listening to this song with a pal, talking about how I would listen to it seven trillion times a day when I was sixteen years old, and think about how saccharine-ly romantickal it was, and hope that one day I too could experience "Good Day Sunshine"-level love. I then said, "'Good Day Sunshine' was one of the first songs that made me fall in love with My Beatles."
My Beatles. I love that! You know those moments in your life when you're just so cuted out by yourself? That was one of them. My Beatles! It's like the "me" equivalent of how Brian "Eppy" Epstein would refer to the Beatles as "The Boys." "My Beatles." It's a term of endearment.
Another recent "I am so adorabled out by my own Maximum Sweetness!" moment I lived (Bear in mind: the anecdote I'm about to share has absolutely nothing to do with anything else I'm writing about, I just LIKE it, and this is MY blog and MY article about MY Beatles) happened yesterday, when a pally-pal and I went out for brunch at Fresh. I ate pancakes after an anorexic three-year-long drought of not eating pancakes, and starting crying a little, because PANCAKES ARE SO GOOD. They were mixed berry pancakes. "Nobody should ever have to live a life without pancakes!" I emoted. It was sweet of me. As sweet as a mixed berry pancake, drenched in organic maple syrup.
1966 Paul McCartney is as cuted-out by himself as is 2009-era Me. So is 1967 Paul McCartney; case in point:
La la la! I am Paul McCartney! I am so cute! I am perfect! My profile in silhouette makes fourteen-year-old girls want to commit suicide!
Paul McCartney was no-duhsville so cuted out by himself while writing, playing, singing, and recording "Good Day Sunshine." "Good Day Sunshine" is the cutest Beatles song, and I'm so proud to know that it is MINE. "Good Day Sunshine"-Love is the perfect best kind- sweet, kicky, dandelions-&-popsicles love. June love. Love that is "Luv." Riding Schwinns with my Dream Dude, daisies in my hair, Embracing My Femininity Southern Gothickally; later, we read E.L. Konigsburg short stories aloud ("beneath a shady tree"); we get stoned, blow smoke into each other's mouths. All I want is "Good Day Sunshine"-love. I had it once, and will again, but today, all I have is "Good Day Sunshine."
Cry, Laura Jane, cry.
9. And Your Bird Can Sing:
The official adjective of Summer 2009 is "kicky."
Everything's kicky. That's not true, but 90% of all shit that is "good" is "kicky" too, and it's way kickier to call it "kicky" than non-kicky "good," so say "kicky"! All summer long.
"And Your Bird Can Sing" is "kicky," especially its kicky little guitar intro. "And Your Bird Can Sing" is my ex-boyfriend's favourite Beatles songs, which comes as no surprise to me, because if there is one thing in this world that dudes can not get over, it's "cool guitar parts." I think a lot about how my Beatles Opinions would differ if I were a dude, and have come to the conclusion that, as much as dudes should, and do, love the Beatles, they'll never fully get it.
The Beatles are for girls.* They may be geniuses, and pretty badass sometimes, but the Beatles are not the Beatles without thinking about how hot they are, and picking which Beatle is the sexiest, cutest, most beautiful, or well-styled, depending on the year. To love the Beatles is not to know why Paul McCartney's bass guitar stylings sound like nobody else's (something about notes? And frets? Finger-picking? "Slappah-De-Bass"?). To love the Beatles is to want Paul McCartney to kiss you because his bass guitar stylings sound like nobody else's. Dudes will never understand.
Cry, dudes, cry.
* And gay dudes; I apologize for my hetero-centricism.
10. For No One:
If "For No One" happens to be your favourite Beatles song, your taste in Beatles songs is highly idiosyncratic. This is another one that falls into the category of "Decently-kicky Throwaway."
One thing that "For No One" always makes me think of is that, somewhere, in The Beatles Anthology, I think, Paul talks about how he thinks "She wakes up/She makes up," is a really cool, interesting lyric of his. He's very proud of it. I could not disagree more, Paulie. I hate that lyric. I think it's so lame.
Since I have close to no real "For No One" opinions to share, I will take this opportunity to discuss how, in addition to being, "Dead," Paul Is Lame. It's so hilariously great! He is incapable of ever really being COOL, like James Dean to your Mom. Even when he does something cool, like write "Helter Skelter" or be a vegetarian, it is automatically NOT COOL because it's Paul McCartney, the man who wrote "Honey Pie." After writing "Honey Pie," there's really no going back. If you write "Honey Pie," you are just lame.
Cry, Honey Pie, Cry.
11. Doctor Robert:
if you take "Ticket to Ride," steal away all its charm, and make it about a doctor, you've got yourself "Doctor Robert"!
Something I wish is that there were more "Reggae Beatles Songs," or at least "Reggae-Flavoured Beatles Songs," or "Reggae-Tinged Beatles Songs," or "Dub Versions of Non-Reggae Beatles Songs."
Something else I wish is that, instead of "Doctor Robert" existing on Revolver, a "Reggae-Infused Beatles Song" had been written and recorded in its place. "Doctor Robert" tells the story of the time a dentist spiked John Lennon, Cynthia Lennon, George Harrison, and Pattie Boyd's cups of tea with LSD, and then they all tripped on LSD without knowing they were on LSD, or even that LSD was a thing. That must have sucked and been scary for them. They were on an elevator, and they thought it was on fire. Having LSD slipped into your cup of tea by dentist and being a Beatle or Beatle-wife is actually a quite-kicky lil' tale to base a Beatles song around; why did John Lennon miss the mark so harshly? "Doctor Robert" is John Lennon's greatest underachievement of his entire being in the Beatles.
Cry, John Lennon, Cry.
12. I Want To Tell You:
You want to tell me what, George Harrison? That you think the taxman is an asshole? Okay. You already told me that. I get it.
Actually, George Harrison wants to tell me, and you, and God, and Paul McCartney, that "[his] head is full of things to say" (probably bitchy diatribes against the taxman), and that "[he] feel[s] hung up and [he doesn't] know why." I don't really know why either, but I would venture to guess that it's probably taxation-related.
Here is what I want to tell you, readers of nogoodforme.com: If "I Want To Tell You" happens to be your favourite Beatles song, you're pretty weird, and either the hugest non-Normie who ever existed, or else a giant Normie who listens to the Beatles because somebody is forcing them to, and don't understand. Don't know any better.
I'm sorry, but that's just how it is.
Cry, fans of "I Want To Tell You," Cry.
13. Got To Get You Into My Life:
"Got To Get You Into My Life" is awesome because it's awesome, and so kicky that it makes normal-kickiness seem like drab blah nothing. "Got To Get You Into My Life" is awesome because it's about weed. "Got To Get You Into My Life" is awesome because it sums up exactly how I felt when I was fourteen twenty-one and smoked weed for the first time. "Got To Get You Into My Life" is awesome because, two summers ago, my Mom and Dad were helping me move into my new apartment in Montreal, and we were listening to a "Kicky Beatles Songs" Mix I'd made, and "Got To Get You Into My Life" came on, and I said, "THIS SONG'S ABOUT WEED."
It was the first time I had ever acknowledged to either of my parents (or my Mother, at least) that I was aware of something named "weed" existing. And oh, what a can of worms that one opened up! A veritable Pandora's Box of talking about weed in front of my parents. What's more, I now write for a blog named nogoodforme.com where I constantly talk about how much I love smoking weed, and how frequently I do it! My poor parents. It must be really weird having me be your kid.
Cry, Mom and Dad, Cry.
14. Tomorrow Never Knows:
I have thought a lot about what to write for "Tomorrow Never Knows," and it has not come easy. Usually, I know exactly what to write, about everything, always. My opinions, in this life, are solid. But "Tomorrow Never Knows" has been a bit of a challenge; all I could think of for the longest time to say for it was, "Ringo Starr is not a genius, but he's definitely gifted." Then, I wondered why this all was so so. And then I figured it out.
"Tomorrow Never Knows" undoubtedly ranks up there with all the Great, Powerful, Mind-blowingly Genius John Lennon Songs That Blow Your Mind And Have Changed Your Life. (Also, if I were a dude, I would want you to know that it is important and innovative, because it is written all in the key of C, like a raga, and features backwards guitars.) But "Tomorrow Never Knows" is missing something that all the other GPMBGLJSTBYMAHCYLs have got in droves. "Tomorrow Never Knows" is indeed as viscerally emotional as "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "In My Life" and "Happiness Is A Warm Gun," but it is NOT PERSONAL. The words aren't even Johnny's; they're the Tibetan Book of the Dead's. "Tomorrow Never Knows" speaks the truth, but it doesn't speak John's truth, which is slightly unnerving, because all John Lennon ever does is flap his trap about John Lennon.
"Tomorrow Never Knows" is one of only two GPMBGLJSTBYMAHCYLs not ridiculously intimate and JL-specific.
The other one is "Cry, Baby, Cry."
Tags: dudes, fiscal conservativism, George Harrison, insomnia, James Dean, John Lennon, Keith Richards, Keith West, kickiness, kicky: the official adjective of summer 2009, Laura loves the Beatles, Libras, LSD, Margaret Thatcher, masturbation jokes, MAXIMUM CUTENESS, My Beatles, pancakes, Paul McCartney, paying taxes, Peter "Buzzkill" Fonda, Reggae Beatles Songs, Revolver, Revolver is awkward, Revolver is cool, Revolver is June, Ringo Starr, smoking weed, The Beatles, The Young Person's Guide to the Beatles, Thurston Moore
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4 Comments!!
Say something so insightful and witty, it will blow us away. (No pressure.)
Got something to say? We'd love to hear it! Name, email and "type in the weirdo drunken text" thingie are all required to comment; don't worry, we won't email you or anything, we just want to make sure you're not an evil spambot. Keeping in mind the good-times mentality we like to keep going here, we've worked hard to keep NOGOODFORME.COM as fun as possible. We welcome all kinds of comments, but insults/abuse/general bitchery are not tolerated. In other words, we put the smackdown on evil troll posts. If you want to be a hater, please go elsewhere. Now, as Salt 'N Pepa say, "Only the sexy people..."
I didn't post mp3s of every song because I felt like a jerk posting all "Revolver" to the Internet. Also, if you don't own "Revolver" already, you should probably go buy "Revolver"
By Laura
on June 14, 2009 7:31 PM
A few things, aside from the fact that This Is Great:
1) The story about your parents and weed is hilarious,
2) "Love You To" used to be my favorite song on the record, and I think my "LYT"-favoritism may have hinged completely on the sound that you first hear 58 seconds in - the sound in the background when he starts the line "love me while you can." It's like, what the hell is that??? After so many years of musical training I always get really excited when I hear a sound I can't identify.
3) Your second Sleepy Beatles picture actually looks kind of "fierce" more than sleepy.
4) Care to put on the record what your favorite Beatles album actually is? I might guess either the White Album or MMT, but I suspect you might be completely surprising and say Beatles for Sale or something.
5) Posh Spice says "kicky" in Spiceworld. You may already be aware of this.
By Jill on June 15, 2009 10:45 PM
I'm glad I'm not the only one not that into Revolver (when compared to other Beatles albums). I think it was probably my being raised on Rubber Soul and Hard Days Night that made me not as susceptible to "Revolver fever".
By meg on June 17, 2009 4:16 PM
White Album, no contest
By Laura
on June 17, 2009 5:10 PM