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we ain't written no poetry

@torchlitinthedesert

a beatles sideblog

1964: eyes of the storm

At the weekend I went to the Paul McCartney exhibition at London's National Portrait Gallery.

I'd seen some of the pictures, but I still wasn't prepared for just how fond it is. Tumblr is enchanted by Soft John, and yes, absolutely - but the whole exhibition has this warmth and freshness to it. I'm sure some of it's smart curation and hindsight, but the observation and attention and choice of subjects is so full of affection.

Some of the earliest shots are at a London gig. There are portraits of George's mum and dad, visiting their boy, looking alert and intelligent and bursting with pride. Because of course they are, and of course Paul took pictures of them.

It's late 1963, but the Finsbury Park Astoria looks stuck in the 1950s, all post-war austerity and support acts with towering teddy boy hair. Backstage looks cramped and freezing and dark: no wonder they went to the pub to try to do a photoshot. Then they go to Paris and the world opens up around them.

And Paul is so thrilled by it all. He's trying arty camera angles (some don't work). He's putting little crosses on his contact sheets, using a special pencil like he's seen the proper photographers do, because he's a complete nerd. And of course they were all arty nerds, trying out techniques and watching other artists (in whatever medium), getting excited and doing their art projects and trying to be cool.

Some are technically not-very-good photographs: Brian laughing right into the camera, George trying to waterski, both out of focus and both radiant with joy. Some are genuinely good portraits (Ringo particularly).

By the time they get to America, he's more confident and some of the on-the-hoof pics are striking: photographing the photographers, alarmed by armed police (with like. real guns. and ammunition. right there, on the other side of the car window, right there).

And so much people-watching. He watches them, and they watch back, looking up as the Beatle circus goes past. Airport workers with their hands over their ears because the screaming's so loud, or catching Paul's eye to mime playing the guitar. A lovely one of a railroad worker smiling back at him, another of a girl in a headscarf, absorbed in her own thoughts. One of their security falling asleep on the job (it's on a boat, they're probably fine). Mal, and Neil, and George Martin with Judy, and Cynthia. He's interested in people. He's amazed by sunlight. He's happy.

the thing is, to me, the story of John and Paul is the story of bonding with someone on a fundamental level before you're even old enough to conceptualize what that means, and then somehow bonding with him even more as you embark upon the dehumanizing ascent to stratospheric success, and all the while, it's becoming more and more obvious that one of you needs help no one can provide and the fame you've achieved – the thing you both always dreamed about together – is making it worse for him day by day, until he's howling in anguish and lashes out at you in an unforgivable way that you still can't help but fundamentally understand because if there's one thing you know it's that he needs help (your help – you wish it was your help he needed – you don't know what exactly he needs).

and now he's gone forever and you never got a chance to make it better or let him make it better.

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quit-your-low-down-ways

The first time I ever saw The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan was not the first time it was aired bc I was barely a toddler, but a year or two later, as a re-run. Because my family had already seen it, they knew what a big deal it was, so when The Beatles came on after the commercial, I remember everyone running to the TV set from every corner of the house, grabbing me on the way (don’t remember who), shouting,  ”THEY’RE ON! THEY’RE ON! HURRY UP!!” Everyone from my mother, to my grandmother, to my great-grandmother, RAN to the living room so they wouldn’t miss a second of it. Everyone was so excited to see them again, they couldn’t even sit down. It was that big.

I love you

"Take 'Michelle.' Paul and I were staying somewhere, and he walked in and hummed the first few bars, with the words, you know-(sings verse of 'Michelle') and he says, 'Where do I go from here?' I'd been listening to blues singer Nina Simone, who did something like 'I love you!' in one of her songs and that made me think of the middle-eight for 'Michelle.' (sings) 'I love you, I love you, I lo-ove you...'"
I love you, I love you, I love you That's all I want to say Until I find a way I will say the only words I know that you'll understand <…> I need to, I need to, I need to I need to make you see Oh, what you mean to me Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean I love you <…> I want you, I want you, I want you I think you know by now I'll get to you somehow Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand

(Michelle, 1965)

<…> 'cos here I go again I love you, I love you I love you, I love you Ah, I can't explain the feeling's plain to me Now can't you see? <…> What's wrong with that? I need to know cos here I go again I love you, I love you

(Silly Love Songs, 1976)

"Michelle" was a tune that I'd written in Chet Atkins' finger-pickin' style. There is a song he did called "Trambone" with a repetitive top line, and he played a bass line whilst playing a melody. This was an innovation for us; even though classical guitarists had played it, no rock "n" roll guitarists had played it. The first person we knew to use finger-pickin' technique was Chet Atkins, and Colin Manley, one of the guys in the Remo Four in Liverpool, who used to play it very well and we all used to stop and admire him. Later John learned how to do it folk-style from Donovan or Gypsy Dave, which he used on "Julia". I never learned it. But based on Atkins's "Trambone", I wanted to write something with a melody and a bass line on it, so I did.

(Paul McCartney in Many Years from Now by Barry Miles, 1997)

Paul began the overdubbing process with a hyperactive bass part that transformed the song [Silly Love Songs] from a ballad into something closer to a funk/disco track. <…> …during the Beatles’ years, his bass lines were often full-fledged strands of counterpoint that bounced off the vocal melody and fit between the rhythm and lead guitar figures. In his solo work, though, his bass playing had been simpler and more direct, and on Wings recordings, the bass was often played by Denny… <…> “I wanted to have a melody on bass,” is how he explained it. <…> As Henderson recalled it, no one—even Paul—knew how the bass line would sound before he hit the record button. “I remember with that particular song, Paul walking out there and getting his bass sound set up,” Henderson said. “And literally within half a run-through, he had that bass part. He didn’t have that when he started playing, so it was amazing to see him come up with that, which is the signature riff of the whole song, out of thin air.”

(The McCartney Legacy: Volume 2: 1974-1980 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair, 2024)

Two Virgins, our first LP, in which the sight of two slightly overweight ex-junkies in the nude gave John and Yoko a damned good laugh and apoplexy to the Philistines of the so-called civilized world! Including those famous avant-garde revolutionary thinkers, Paul, George and It’s Only Ringo. I bear them no ill will. ln retrospect, the Beatles were no more an important part of my life than any other (and less than some).
John Lennon, 'The Ballad of John and Yoko' (1978). Published in Skywriting by Word of Mouth (1986)

If people actually understood lennon mccartney there would be a scene in the biopics of John just doing stupid shit and Paul laughing happily while everyone else is annoyed for longer than we’re comfortable with

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