What else is there to say about the famous rooftop concert? Just this: every time you watch it, you pick up something new. And that something new usually can be summed up thusly: good GOD what a band.
Paul McCartney's critical reputation has been on the upswing since before this century started, so it's sometimes surprising to remember just how much the critics savaged him and his music in the 1970s. He was often lumped into with other saccharine popsters of the day, writing and singing empty confectionaries, just chasing chart success. And to be fair, that's not entirely inaccurate. Except you know which of his peers up there at #1 could sing balls to the wall rock and roll like he so casually does at about 0:29 there? None of them. (Well...Rod the Mod. But he doesn't count.)
John Lennon, of course, is at his coolest here—and when he was cool, there was absolutely no one cooler—obviously emotionally invested, and just gliding through the proceedings with that amazing voice, playing some sweet guitar, and occasionally (such as at 1:54) unleashing that zillion watt smile of his. Obviously, he was one of the great rock and roll screamers of all time, but here he goes the smooth route, gliding above everything casually, knowing that's the most musically effective way to provide counterpoint to Paul's grit.
Even the famously unhappy by this point George Harrison mainly looks pleased, and outright happy a bunch of places—usually but not always when smiling at Ringo, and who can really blame him?—all while playing that frankly weird-ass guitar part that no one else would have come up with and with fits absolutely perfectly.
Speaking of, notice the way Ringo Starr is pounding those toms. There's a very clear difference in timbre between drums hit hard and drums not hit hard, and Ringo is bashing those poor things, getting the best possible tones out of them. And check out that brief, tight and not terribly characteristic fill at 1:28, with its sweet syncopated hi-hat bark. But most of all, listen to the way he brings them back in after the breakdown, around 1:17, as George smiles and Paul hits that perfect high note. They're on a damn rooftop, having not played live in years, they're freezing--several of them wearing their wives' coats in an attempt to keep warm—and them come back in at precisely the right millisecond. If the top studio musicians in New York or Los Angeles stumbled upon these guys playing in some dingy club and heard that bit, they would have turned to each other in shock. "Did you just hear that?" "Of course I did. Good god, who are these guys?"
Some people are simply born with more or higher quality raw materials. Some of those people do little or nothing with those materials. And some of them work with and on them until they get to the point where they can literally write an utterly perfect pop song in their sleep.
Because there's never enough examples of artists who don't understand their own work as fully as others do, here's John Lennon talking about this song:
That's what I call craftsmanship writing, meaning, you know, I just churned that out. I'm not putting it down, it's just what it is, but I just sat down and wrote it, you know, with no real inspiration, based on a dream I'd had.
I love the LP version of "Woman" and think it truly is one of the best and most beautiful love songs ever written. Such a perfect love letter from John to Yoko, written, tragically, just before the end. I love the lushness of the song, the fullness in his voice and instrumentation that almost hearkens back to the Wall of Sound.
But I think I love this stripped down version even more. It's still tender and lovely, only now it's raw, bare. Like these are words he doesn't just want to say but has to say.
And thankfully he was able to say them.
"So let me tell you, again and and again and again... I love you, now and forever."
Wow is that a long time. Which in no way at all seems that long.
Here's something I noticed recently. For the first time, oddly.
When he was 25 he wrote a song called "Girl," a great song, no doubt, but one filled with anger bordering on petulance about the "girl" in his life he just couldn't seem to get over and just couldn't seem to understand. He sounded like a boy singing this song, because he pretty much was a boy.
Fast forward 15 years to when he was 40, tragically the last year of his life. The last great song he would ever write came out that year, also squarely centered on the female in his life.
Only this one was called ""Woman." Gone was the bitterness and frustration, replaced here by contrition and an outright, plainly spoken vow of love and devotion. He sounded like a man singing it. Because he now was a man.
John Lennon the brash brat became John Lennon the grownup. "Girl" became "Woman." And rock-n-roll became all the greater by him making these contributions. Again and again.
Just one more gift from John Winston Ono Lennon, 1940-1980. Taken too soon and gone too long.
"The blues? It's the mother of American music. That's what it is. The source." — Riley B. "B.B." King
B.B. King. 1925-2015
B.B. King. Never has a surname been more apropos.
He was called "The King of the Blues" and with great reason. It is very hard to overstate how important he was to 20th century music. And 21st century music. And how important he will be to 22nd century music. Influential? How about Eric Clapton and Mark Knopfler and Jimmy Page and Keith Richards? All of whom count B.B. among the biggest inspirations for their careers. How about Jimi Hendrix? How about John Lennon, who name-checked him in a song and once said that if he were teamed with B.B. King he would "feel real silly." How about Elvis Presley, who counted B.B. as a hero and a friend?
Yes. B.B. King was that big.
And that important.
And that great.
And now he is gone, passed on from this great life at age 89.
Damn.
But Lord did he give us the music for these past 60 years or so. Including this, the leadoff track of easily one of the greatest live albums ever released.
I'll give the last word to a man who likely knew B.B. as well as anyone, as well as someone who knew about touching the level of greatness that B.B. touched.
"B.B. King was the greatest guy I ever met. The
tone he got out of that guitar, the way he shook his left wrist, the way he
squeezed the strings...man, he came out with that and it was all new to the
whole guitar playin' world. He could play so smooth, he didn't have to put on a
show. The way B.B. did it is the way we all do it now. He was my best friend and
father to us all. I'll miss you, B. I love you and I promise I will keep these damn blues alive.
Rest well." — Buddy Guy
Rest in peace, B.B. And thank you a million times over for, as Buddy said, keeping these damn blues alive.
I've seen this picture for years. Only never really looked at it until very recently.
The single most dynamic and important partnership in the history of 20th century music, caught in freeze-frame magic at the literal beginning of their superstardom. This photo, after all, was taken upon their arrival in New York City in early 1964 and stands as one of the earliest captured moments of what we now know as the British Invasion. Just by the time and place alone, not to mention the brilliance and magnitude of the two men pictured, this photo stands as one of the most iconic in the history of rock-n-roll.
But look a little closer, as I did recently, and note some fascinating details. The looks on their respective faces stand to represent, I think, a pretty accurate look behind the curtain at each of them.
There's John Lennon at 23, the sly rapscallion, effortlessly doffing his cap as he glances off to his right, offering a sneaky grin that has even the tiniest hint of a sneer attached to it, as if he's in on a joke only he can understand.
There's Paul McCartney, two years younger at 21 and a touch more innocent, his hand warmly draping his friend's shoulder, his smile more open and playful, his mouth reflecting a bit more than John's the sheer wonder of the moment.
And each of them is looking at something totally different. John's glance is sideways, Paul's is upward and straight ahead. Each fully aware of what this moment means, even if no one else does yet.
This is their first time on American soil—the United States being the holy grail for British pop artists, a territory desperately desired by all yet never before conquered by any. And keep in mind, this is a mere 13 months after their first British hit, so while they've been stars in the United Kingdom and Europe for a while, it's not like it's truly old hat to them yet.
And yet in both of those faces, the sense of total confidence, to an almost defiant degree. And clearly neither of them is spooked by this moment. Instead both know not only exactly why they belong here, but also exactly what's to come before too long. Maybe they can't see the full future. Maybe they can't yet see Revolver and Sgt. Pepper and Abbey Road. Maybe not. But they definitely see something. And they know it's going to be huge.
This is a photo of two men who know that greatness is just about to come within reach, and they know they are ready to grab it. And never let go.
"This is nothing terrible, it's bad enough, but it's not terrible—wow, that's deep, man."
On the John Lennon Anthology box, this is titled "Satire 2." But I much prefer its unofficial title, taken from Lennon's lyrics: "Stuck Inside of a Lexicon with the Roget's Thesaurus Blues Again."
Hearing one genius savage another genius like this is, frankly, delightful. (And going out of his way to make sure his old bandmate George got hit with some collateral damage in the bargain.) I also love that Lennon's Dylan impression isn't nearly as close as nearly anyone else's in the entire world, timbre-wise, although his cadence is awfully good—but his lyrical broadside is pretty damn spot-on, even if it's more one of Dylan's earlier talking blues he's parodying and not the Blonde on Blonde classic.
The official Soviet newspaper said that temple members have protested the mindless arms race and the filthy war in Vietnam and were persecuted and finally forced to seek refuge in another country—wow, sounds like a ballad to me
Oh man, Bangkok, Thailand, has launched an air/sea-search for a fishing boat carrying some four hundred Vietnamese refugees, the boat was towed back out to sea after arriving in Thailand, sources said because of a breakdown in communication
Oh Lord, the boat was towed into Thai waters by a German freighter and the Thai navy, unaware that the refugees had been guaranteed a resettlement in West Germany, took the boat out to sea after providing all passengers with provision—wow, that's deep man
The Chinese newspapers have made the first reference to the country's curtain wall poster campaign according to vice-premier Deng Xiao-Ping, and saying that the country's stable and its leaders are confident and been planting modernization programs—oh, this should get me in the Village Voice
Deng gave his blessings to the campaign but he commented not all the opinions of the masses are carefully thought out nor can we demand that they all be correct, adding this is nothing terrible, it's bad enough, but it's not terrible
Former president Richard Nixon, on his second trip outside the United States since his resignation, was a smiling handshaking politician again, greeting crowds outside his hotel and trying a little French, he sure as hell didn't try it on Pat Nixon
Mr. Nixon is in Paris to sight-see and be interviewed on French television, before going on to deliver a speech in England, he'll participate in the French call-in program and said he will answer questions in Welsh—that's pretty big, Mr. N
Oh, I'm so cynical I could just keep on doing this forever because, you know, they ain't gonna be looking in my golden bunions in a hundred years from now, they're gonna be selling my socks like Judy Garland, and I hope they get a good price, I mean, what with the inflation and the price of rice, but man, I shouldn't worry, I own all my own songs and I wrote them myself too
I got twenty-four children, fourteen wives, three mistresses, fifty-nine accountants, one-hundred and-five lawyers, two million fans, a posting system that never fails to land me in jail, and look through my mail, perhaps have a garage sale, and you know, go save the whale, and eh, you know, get a boat and go for a sail, and, and, oh, oh, oh, how do you get out of this hell, I'm stuck inside of a lexicon with the Roget's Thesaurus blues again—sometimes I wish I was just George Harrison, you know, got all the answers, oh my God, oh my God
Also, check out his spoken intro: in true Lennon fashion, he seems to be transmogrifying the former Robert Zimmerman's surname from "Dylan" to "Diddle."
I was only 12, a huge new Beatles fan and was convinced they would someday soon get back together. They had to. I didn't know everything about them, but that much I understood. They would get back together. They would.
And then my Mom walked down the hallway as I was brushing my teeth on a dreary Tuesday morning and told me John Lennon had been shot and killed the night before in New York City.
Sad as I was, I don't think I could have possibly comprehended how big a loss this was. I'm still not sure I do.
Nor do I understand how John was never really in love with his singing voice. Sure, maybe being around Paul McCartney and that wondrous voice can be intimidating as hell, but anyone who can sing like this really doesn't need to feel inferior to anyone.
John Winston Ono Lennon. Gone 34 years ago today. One more thing I don't think I will ever, ever understand.
And it's a good list. It's not perfect, it's not the one I would have put together, but then I repeat myself. But it's good, really good. And while a few personal faves have been omitted—I not only prefer "Watching the Wheels" to "Staring Over," I think it's superior, but can see the reverse argument—I really only have one major beef, and that's that any list which omits this is seriously flawed.
The lyrics aren't my favorite of Lennon's—considering his (deservéd) reputation as one of the greatest lyricists ever, they tread perilously close to a sorta lovesick zen version of a McCartney song—but they're fine, effective even, and the music...oh, the music. As a guy who knows a thing or two about both music and lyrics said not too long ago:
"There have been many great songs which have had really appalling lyrics, but there have been no great songs which have had appalling music."—Peter Gabriel
These lyrics are lightyears away from appalling—they are, in fact, quite appealing and have a certain painting on rice paper ephemeralness—and the music is simply transcendent. "Oh My Love" is the single prettiest song John Lennon ever wrote, and that's saying something.
That is best wisdom I would impart to any young-un...hell, anyone under the age of, say, 23, really. About what it's like when you hit your 40s. Or beyond. There's one very easy thing I could tell them.
"Things hurt."
Because they do. They so, so do.
Knee. Ankle. Neck. Thumb. They just hurt. That's today's list. And for no damn reason.
It used to be the legs were super-sore after playing a couple of hours of basketball or something. But nope. I hurt my thumb the other day opening a beer bottle. And I don't mean "hurt" like I cut it or something. No. I strained some kind of muscle or ligament or sinew or whatever the hell is inside the hand that makes the thumb work. And it still hurts. Hitchhiking may never be the same again.
So. That's really all I had to say. Things hurt.
Except this. Here's a great raw version of a great song about getting older gracefully. Which I'd like to think is still possible. Just as long as I don't run too hard, don't reach too far down, and, of course, use a bottle opener from now on.
You know. For Valentine's Day. Here are our offerings of our favorite of the love song genre. Not all happy, not all sappy, but all indeed involving the "L" word. Our 18 favorites, to be exact. Why 18? Because 19 would be ridiculous.
18) “Angel Eyes”—John Hiatt: This was the first dance for my wife and me at our wedding. Such a perfect tale of the underdog winning out. - DT
17) “Black Eyed Susan”—Paul Westerberg: What says "romance" more than a guy serenading a young junkie? Weird choice, I know, but the tenderness with which Westerberg treats the girl, while never shying away from the very real problems, gets me every time. And, of course, it's a lovely recording, suffused with that very late night/early morning feel from the very first sound. — SP
16) “If I Had $1,000,000”—Barenaked Ladies: Not-so-deep down it really is a pretty simple love song, all these things one would do for the woman (or man) he/she loves. And “I’d build a treefort in our yard; you could help, it wouldn’t be that hard” is just so adorable. – DT
15) "Martha My Dear"—The Beatles: Potentially the single most misogynistic song in the rock and roll catalog becomes instead an unbelievably sweet paean to the various kinds of love when you discover that Paul was (mainly) singing to his beloved sheepdog. Silly? You bet. But also overflowing with the kind of joy that can't be faked. — SP
14) “Because the Night”—Bruce Springsteen: No one said love couldn’t be desperate. This isn’t candies and flowers love. This is using your last dime at the payphone to desperately call her and tell her what you need to tell her love. –DT
13) "Wonderful Tonight"—Eric Clapton: Sure, it's overplayed to death. So what? Get past the fact that you've heard it a few hundred times more often than you'd have liked and you find a gorgeous melody caressing some of the sweetest lyrics ever, one of those few gushy gushy love songs that's not cloying. (And not just because the song's autobiographical and he was actually annoyed by how long she was taking to get ready when he wrote it...although, yes, that makes it even better.) — SP
12) “Golden Lady”—Stevie Wonder: “You Are the Sunshine Of My Life” is better known and equally brilliant. But Stevie never wrote a more beautiful song. And just think what a mouthful that statement is. – DT
11) "Freak Scene"—Dinosaur Jr: J Mascis seems to be one of rock's great misanthropes, which ain't no small feat. And yet this ode to his long-time, vitally important yet troubled friendship with bassist/singer Lou Barlow ("Sometimes I don't thrill you, sometimes I think I'll kill you, just don't let me fuck up, will you? 'cuz when I need a friend it's still you.") stands out as one of their sweetest songs, as well as the crunchiest rock and roll on this list. — SP
10) “The Luckiest”—Ben Folds: When you know, you know. Even if you’d never met, you still somehow know. Ben and his piano deliver the goods without lapsing at all into cheesiness. –DT
9) "Oh My Love"— John Lennon: The loveliest melody Lennon ever wrote—you heard me—set against an impossibly delicate musical backdrop, with his piano and George's guitar spun together like the most fragile gossamer, all married to simple lyrics that sound like an ancient Buddhist koan. — SP
8) “You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go”—Bob Dylan: Even when everything falls apart, love remains. “I’ll see you in the skies above, in the tall grass, in the ones I love” is a stunning sentiment. - DT
7) "The Heart of the Matter"—Don Henley: ...really? Don Henley? Hey, even a blind pig and all that, and in this case he found an Italian White Alba truffle. — SP
6) “Unsatisfied”—The Replacements: Sad as hell, to be sure. But you can only write something this lost and lonely if love was once there, and once meant an awful lot to you. – DT
5) "I've Been Waiting"—Matthew Sweet: In which the Brian Wilson of the post-punk era creates a simple love song that puts its hooks into your skin from the first moment and never lets go, pristine harmonies, funny lyrics and a searing guitar solo combining to perfectly encapsulate aurally the feel of new love after a long, lonely spell. — SP
4) “Woman”—John Lennon: Maybe not his most poignant love letter to Yoko (that would be “Oh My Love”) but it's his last one, and maybe his most direct. And that matters. A lot. – DT
3) "Two for the Road"—Bruce Springsteen: When Springsteen, long-time famous loner, invites someone along for the ride, you know that ain't an offer extended lightly. That the guy who wrote "Born to Run" seemed to finally be advocating for the deep-seated need for a partner ("I didn't see it coming but, girl, now I know it takes one for the running but two for the road") actually made me reconsider my plans for life. — SP
2) “All My Loving”—The Beatles: Sweet, pop, heartfelt and perfect. The Beatles have about 60 that would qualify for this list. I choose this one. – DT
1) "God Only Knows"—The Beach Boys: Simultaneously the most romantic and the most realistic take on love from a band still generally best known for their simple songs of fun, fun, fun. "If you should ever leave me, well, life would still go on, believe me." Bwah? No, no, no. That's not how love songs are supposed to go. "The world could show nothing to me, so what good would living do me?" Ah...there 'tis. Yes. If you leave me, I'm not going to just curl up and die, victorian notions and Harlequin romances to the contrary. But I might as well, since I could never, ever be happy again. Yeah. That. That's love. — SP
10) “Woman”—John Lennon, 1980. This is a “time-and-place” song for me, having first heard it within days of Lennon’s being killed. I was an emerging Beatles nut at the time and had no idea what his death would mean for every person who would ever come to worship at the Beatles altar. This love letter to Yoko Ono is musical romance at its straightforward best. And thank God he got to say it before it was too late. “Let me tell you again and again and again…I love you, now and forever.”
9) “Achin’ To Be”—The Replacements, 1988. I’ve gone into depth about my love for the Replacements. This is not their best song, but it’s my favorite. Paul Westerberg was his generation’s finest songwriter, and his hoodlum poetics never sounded so sad, elegant, and lonely as this waking look at weary self-discovery (it even includes a wry gender-flop to give it an air of further detachment.) He’s written dozens of take-your-breath-away lyrics before and since, but this is Westerberg at his mature best. “She’s kinda like a poet who finds it hard to speak; the poems come so slowly, like the colors down a sheet.”
8) “Why Worry”— Dire Straits, 1985. A hushed, lullaby-like ballad spotlighting the water magic of Mark Knopfler’s Stratocaster. Pretty and seductive – I used to drift off to sleep at the end of some late, late college nights with this playing.“Just when this world seems mean and cold, our love comes shining red and gold, and all the rest is by the way.”
7) “Fall on Me” —R.E.M., 1986. Just a beautiful rock song, with wondrous descending harmony and melody lines that seem to go on forever and an undeniable pop hook. R.E.M. was music for people who felt different and needed something different; a club for people who didn’t belong to clubs. And this may very well be their best song, as well as my favorite. “Buy the sky and sell the sky, and bleed the sky and tell the sky, ‘Don’t fall on me.’”
6) “Rain”—Beatles, 1966. Probably written as a throwaway, but this is the height of Lennon’s fuzzy psychedalia and musical mathematics. It led to dozens of barely listenable hippy-dippy copycats, but this one is the genuine article. The first time I heard it was as a kid, finding it buried on Side 2 of the Hey Jude collection, just when I thought they couldn't get any better. The harmonies are magical, and Ringo’s at his very best, too. "Shine, the weather’s fine.”
