Upon their return from Rishikesh, India, Paul McCartney, accompanied by Jane Asher and Neil Aspinall, arrived at London Airport on the morning of March 27, 1968. They had spent over a month studying meditation with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. McCartney and Asher briefly engaged with reporters, shedding light on their transformative experience:
Reporter: "Well, you look very happy. Do you feel better after five weeks of meditation?"
Paul McCartney: "Yes, yes, I feel a lot better, except for the flight, you know. That’s quite long. I’m a bit shattered, but the meditation is great! You sit down, you relax, and then you repeat a sound to yourself. It sounds daft, but it’s just a system of relaxation, and that’s all it is. There’s nothing more to it. We meditated for about five hours a day in all. Two hours in the morning and maybe three hours in the evening, and then, for the rest of the time, we slept, ate, sunbathed and had fun."
Reporter: "One Indian MP accused the camp where you stayed as being an espionage centre, and you, in fact, as being a spy for the West."
Paul McCartney: "Yes, it’s true. Yes, we are spies. The four of us are spies. Actually, I’m a reporter and I joined The Beatles for that very reason. The story is out next week in a paper which shall be nameless."
Reporter: "Jane, did you go for a holiday or did you go to meditate as well?"
Jane Asher: "Oh, to meditate."
Reporter: "And what effect did it have on you? This, I presume, is your first big meditation experience?"
Jane Asher: "Yes. I think it calms you down. It’s hard to tell because it was so different, you know, the life out there. It’d be easy to tell now that I’m back, or when we’re doing ordinary things, to see just what it does."
Reporter: "We’ve heard about the extreme poverty that exists in India. Presumably you saw some of that?"
Paul McCartney: "Yes, oh yes. I don’t equate it, you know, because it’s nothing to do with it, you know. The idea is to stop poverty at its root. You see, if we just give handouts to people, it’ll just stop the problems for a day, or a week, you know. But, in India, there’s so many people, you really need all of America’s money to pour into India to solve it, you know. So, you’ve got to get to the cause of it and persuade all the Indians to start working and, you know, start doing things. Their religions, it’s very fatalistic, and they just sit down and think, ‘God said, this is it, so it’s too bad to do anything about it.’ The Maharishi’s trying to persuade them that they can do something about it."
McCartney and Asher's insightful reflections offered glimpses into the profound impact of their meditation experience and the broader societal issues they encountered during their time in India.
The recording session for "Hey Bulldog" on Sunday, February 11, 1968, at Studio Three, EMI Studios, Abbey Road, stands as a testament to The Beatles' creative spontaneity and innovative spirit. Led by producer George Martin and engineer Geoff Emerick, the band embarked on a journey to capture the essence of John Lennon's latest composition amidst the hustle and bustle of filming a promotional clip for "Lady Madonna."
The day began at 4 pm in Abbey Road's Studio Three, where The Beatles, accompanied by NEMS employee Tony Bramwell filming the session, decided to seize the opportunity to record "Hey Bulldog." Lennon took to the piano, McCartney shook a tambourine, Harrison strummed rhythm guitar, and Starr kept the beat on drums as they laid down the foundation of the track in 10 takes.
McCartney later overdubbed a bass guitar part onto take 10, enhancing the song's rhythmic drive, while Harrison added the main riff on a distorted guitar and Starr contributed additional off-beat snare drum accents. Lennon and McCartney then shared a single microphone to deliver the vocals, infusing the recording with their signature harmonies and playful banter.
The session was marked by a collaborative spirit and creative experimentation, with the band exploring various sonic textures and effects to enhance the song's impact. Emerick applied artificial double tracking (ADT) to certain sections of the track, adding depth and dimension to the sound.
After Bramwell concluded filming, final overdubs were added, including a lead guitar solo performed on Harrison's Gibson SG Standard, though the identity of the player remains uncertain. Two mono mixes of "Hey Bulldog" were then created, with the second mix being provided to King Features for an animated sequence in the Yellow Submarine film.
The recording session for "Hey Bulldog" encapsulates The Beatles' boundless creativity and collaborative synergy, resulting in a timeless and dynamic rock track that continues to captivate listeners to this day.
The recording session for George Harrison's soundtrack album "Wonderwall Music" on Wednesday, January 10, 1968, at EMI Recording Studio in Bombay, India, was a momentous occasion that captured the essence of Harrison's creative journey in the heart of India.
Having arrived in Bombay on January 7, 1968, Harrison was immersed in the vibrant atmosphere of the city as he embarked on recording the soundtrack for the film "Wonderwall." This particular session marked the second day of recording, following the commencement of sessions on January 9.
The studio was alive with energy as Harrison and a talented ensemble of Indian musicians came together to bring his vision to life. Among them were Ashish Khan on sarod, Ahapurush Misra on tabla and pakavaj, Sharad Jadev and Hanuman Jadev on shanhais, Shambu-Das, Indril Bhattacharya, and Shankar Ghosh on sitar, Chandra Shakher on sur-bahar, Shiv Kumar Sharma on santorr, SR Kenkare and Hari Prasad Chaurasia on flute, Vinayak Vohra on taar shehnai, and Rijram Desad on dholak, harmonium, and tabla-tarang.
The studio buzzed with activity as Harrison took on the dual role of producer and creative visionary, guiding the musicians through the intricacies of each composition. Camera crews from Reuters and BBC News were invited to capture the magic of the session, providing a rare glimpse into the creative process behind the album. Though the footage was silent, it offered a visual testament to the collaborative spirit and cultural fusion that defined the recording sessions.
The EMI Recording Studios, located at the Universal Insurance Building in Bombay, provided the perfect backdrop for this musical exploration. As the musicians worked tirelessly to bring Harrison's compositions to life, the studio reverberated with the sounds of traditional Indian instruments blending seamlessly with Harrison's distinctive musical style.
The recording session for "Wonderwall Music" in Bombay stands as a testament to Harrison's adventurous spirit and his deep appreciation for Indian music and culture. It was a pivotal moment in his artistic journey, paving the way for future explorations and collaborations that would leave an indelible mark on the world of music.
John Lennon and Yoko Ono captivated audiences on the fourth edition of Frost On Saturday, hosted by David Frost. Broadcasting live from Studio One of Wembley Studios in London, the couple, adorned in black attire with white badges from their art exhibition "You Are Here," engaged in a thought-provoking discussion about their personal and artistic philosophies.
Amidst other guests including singer Blossom Dearie and satirist Stan Freberg, Lennon and Ono seized the opportunity to delve into the essence of their exhibition, which invited active participation from visitors. Ono described the exhibition as unfinished, symbolized by a broken cup on a pedestal awaiting mending.
Lennon elaborated on the interactive nature of their art, showcasing a blackboard with "You Are Here" scrawled in chalk and discussing visitors' varied reactions. The segment featured a glimpse of their film "Smile," described by Lennon as a poignant portrait.
As the discussion progressed, Lennon and Ono sensed the audience's intrigue but also skepticism. They invited guests to partake in the "Hammer a nail" piece, offering a unique outlet for channeling aggression and fostering engagement. The segment culminated in a playful interaction as David Frost joined in, humorously acknowledging his novice status with applause from the audience.
Ono introduced another artwork, "Built Around," highlighting their collaborative approach to art. Lennon shared anecdotes, including the tale of their first encounter, a story recounted in subsequent interviews.
The interview concluded with Lennon and Ono reflecting on their endeavor to communicate through art and music, accompanied by the Beatles' forthcoming single, 'Hey Jude,' playing over the closing credits.
On this historic day, Studio Two at Abbey Road was abuzz with creative energy as The Beatles embarked on the second session for their monumental track, "Hey Jude." Under the guidance of producer George Martin and engineer Ken Scott, the Fab Four dove deeper into shaping the song's sound and structure.
Seventeen takes were meticulously recorded, marked with numbers 7-23, as the band fine-tuned the arrangement, striving for perfection. Despite their musical genius, tensions simmered between bandmates, notably between Paul McCartney and George Harrison, as disagreements arose over guitar parts, adding a layer of drama to the proceedings.
Amidst the musical exploration, a film crew documented the session for the documentary Music! by the National Music Council of Great Britain, providing a rare behind-the-scenes glimpse into The Beatles' creative process. The footage captures the band members immersed in their craft, with McCartney on vocals and piano, Lennon on acoustic guitar and vocals, and Starr holding down the beat on drums.
In a spontaneous burst of creativity, The Beatles treated listeners to impromptu renditions of "St. Louis Blues" and Ray Charles’ "Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying."
As the day drew to a close, the definitive take of "Hey Jude," take 23, emerged, setting the stage for further overdubs. With two reduction mixes, numbered 24 and 25, completed, the groundwork was laid for additional layers of vocals and instruments.
Before bidding farewell to Studio Two, a rough mix was crafted, paving the way for George Martin to work his orchestral magic, adding the finishing touches to this iconic anthem. As the sun set on Abbey Road, the legacy of "Hey Jude" was in the making, destined to become a timeless masterpiece cherished by generations to come.
On Friday, April 12, 1968, after nearly two months immersed in the practice of Transcendental Meditation under the guidance of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in Rishikesh, India, John Lennon and George Harrison, along with Cynthia Lennon, Pattie Harrison, and their friend 'Magic' Alex Mardas, made the decision to depart from the camp. This choice was influenced by Mardas's allegations that Maharishi had behaved inappropriately with a young female meditator, leading Lennon and Harrison to believe that they should leave immediately.
Despite initial doubts and the absence of concrete evidence, Lennon and Harrison were swayed by Mardas's claims, and they departed for Delhi with plans to return to London. Reflecting on the situation later, Lennon expressed disillusionment with Maharishi's behavior, feeling that the spiritual leader had become too preoccupied with fame and wealth.
As they prepared to leave, Lennon began composing the song "Sexy Sadie," inspired by the events and feelings surrounding their departure from the camp. The lyrics reflected his skepticism and frustration towards Maharishi. The song's title was suggested by Harrison, and the two musicians continued to develop it as they journeyed to Delhi.
Following their departure, Harrison and Pattie Harrison, accompanied by her sister Jenny, ventured to Madras to visit sitar virtuoso Ravi Shankar, finding solace in his music before facing the chaos awaiting them upon their return to England.
Ultimately, the departure from Rishikesh marked the end of their spiritual retreat and the beginning of their reintegration into the tumultuous world awaiting them back home.
Step into the intriguing world of John Lennon and Yoko Ono as they invite viewers into the unexpected locale of a dentist's waiting room in Knightsbridge, London, for a candid and revealing interview on the Dutch television show Rood Wit Blauw (Red White Blue).
Yoko Ono takes the spotlight initially, engaging in a deep conversation with interviewer Abram de Swaan about her art and its profound purpose as a tool for communication. She reminisces about her first encounter with Lennon at the Indica gallery, highlighting her initial unawareness of his celebrity status.
As the interview progresses, Lennon joins the conversation, his demeanor slightly altered by the effects of anesthesia. Despite this, he delves into a range of topics, from their infamous drugs bust to their avant-garde film, Smile. The dialogue takes unexpected turns, touching on The Beatles' tax woes and culminating in a discussion about their controversial song "Revolution."
Throughout the interview, Lennon offers candid reflections, expressing skepticism toward protesters while extending solidarity to the black power movement. Meanwhile, Ono draws parallels between the struggles of women and marginalized communities, famously proclaiming, "woman is like the nigger of the world," a sentiment that would reverberate in Lennon's later musical compositions.
Step back in time to late 1968, when the world was in the midst of change, and the counterculture was at its zenith. In Los Angeles, California, amidst the creative fervor of the era, George Harrison, the legendary guitarist of The Beatles, flew in to produce Jackie Lomax's Apple debut. Amidst his busy schedule, George took a moment to share his thoughts with Canada's CBC TV program The Way It Is, which aired in 1969.
John Lennon and Paul McCartney held a press conference at the Americana Hotel in New York City on May 14, 1968, to promote Apple Corps in the United States. Derek Taylor managed the questions, and Linda Eastman, who later became Linda McCartney, was present in the audience. McCartney, experiencing personal paranoia likely induced by drugs, allowed Lennon to take the lead in most of the discussion. The press conference revealed the duo's discomfort with handling the media since The Beatles ceased touring. Despite their unease, they announced Apple's launch and its invitation for talent submissions. Reflecting on the event, McCartney expressed feeling nervous and out of his depth during interviews with publications like Fortune magazine, emphasizing that Apple was initially more about fun than business planning.
"Revolution 9" is a highly experimental and avant-garde piece featured on The Beatles' 1968 self-titled album, commonly known as "The White Album." The creation of "Revolution 9" was primarily the work of John Lennon, with assistance from Yoko Ono and producer George Martin.
The motivations behind the creation of "Revolution 9" are multifaceted:
Experimentalism: The Beatles were known for their willingness to push the boundaries of popular music and experiment with new sounds and techniques. "Revolution 9" reflects their interest in avant-garde and experimental music, incorporating elements of musique concrète, tape manipulation, and sound collage.
Artistic Freedom: The recording sessions for "The White Album" were marked by a high degree of creative freedom and experimentation. Each member of the band was given the opportunity to explore their individual artistic visions, resulting in a diverse range of musical styles and genres on the album.
Social Commentary: "Revolution 9" can also be seen as a reflection of the turbulent political and social climate of the late 1960s. The chaotic and dissonant nature of the piece has been interpreted by some as a commentary on the chaos and violence of the era, including protests, riots, and the Vietnam War.
Personal Expression: For John Lennon, "Revolution 9" was a means of expressing his own artistic ideas and interests, as well as his growing fascination with avant-garde and experimental music. Lennon was deeply influenced by artists such as Karlheinz Stockhausen and Yoko Ono, whose avant-garde works inspired him to explore new sonic possibilities.
"Revolution 9" represents a departure from conventional songwriting and production techniques, serving as a bold and provocative statement of artistic freedom and experimentation for The Beatles. While it remains one of the most controversial and polarizing tracks in their catalog, it also stands as a testament to their willingness to challenge conventions and explore new creative territories.
The slow version of ‘Revolution’ on the album went on
and on and on and I took the fade-out part, which is what they sometimes
do with disco records now, and just layered all this stuff over it. It
was the basic rhythm of the original ‘Revolution’ going on with some 20
loops we put on, things from the archives of EMI.
I saw Maharishi speak here January 21st and then went up to Plaza Hotel that evening (I'd phoned for tickets to his organisation and on return telephone call they invited me up, saying Maharishi wanted to see me) . . . so surrounded by his disciples I sat at his feet on the floor and listened while he spoke.
Yelling C.I.A.
At a previous press conference I'd not been at I heard he'd said all sorts of outlandish things like poverty was laziness and I saw in "IT" his equatory communism = weakism. So after I was introduced I sat at his feet and literally started yelling at him . . . . spoke for half an hour almost, challenging, arguing . . . all in good humour though his business managers and devotees gasped with horror occasionally. But I never got impolite and he stayed calm and rather sweet so no harm. He'd been discussing U.S. 'dis-satisfaction' as Johnson's phrase had been quoted to him earlier, so I said that specific dis-satisfaction was among young people over the Vietnam war, and it was a problem troubling everyone in his audience that day, at least of the young people; that though the US was as he said Creative, its creations were massively negative as Vietnam at this point and that's why people were restless and looked for spiritual guidance from him and that he, Maharishi, hadn't covered the problem satisfactorily. He said Johnson and his secret police had more information and they knew what they were doing. I said they were a buncha dumbells and they don't know and his implicit support of authoritarianism made lots a people wonder if weren't some kinda CIA agent. He giggled 'CIA?' His devotees began screaming so I said it was a common question so it should be proposed and they shouldn't stand around silent and fearful to speak.
Hari Krishna L.S.D.
Then I asked what about draft resistant kids, going to war and murder? He said either way meditate. I asked about Hari Krishna. He said one mantra won't fit everybody. As he'd put down drugs I said there wouldn't have been anybody to see him if it hadn't been for LSD. Devotees gasped. He said, well, LSD has done its thing, now forget it. Just let it drop. He said his meditation was stronger. I said excellent, if it works why not? I said I would be glad to try; can't do anything but good. Then he said that 'acid' damaged Hippies nervous systems, he had six hippies visit him in a room in LA and had to take them into the garden, they smelled so bad.
Hippies smell
I said WHAT? you must have been reading the newspapers. He said he didn't read newspapers. I said he likely had a misconception from his friends (at that point, I guess I said acid hippies were the largest part of the day's audience). He insisted that hippies smelled. I must say that was tendentious. His final statement on war was he didn't want to get into that, he wanted only to emphasise meditation, meditation, meditation. I said that's fine. I'll meditate.
All in all I thought his political statements not so evil as dim and thoughtless, somewhat sucking up to the establishment so as not to cause opposition and trouble. But judging from voicetone of his business manager -- a sort of business man western square sensitive -- sounds like he is surrounded by a conservative structure and he would come on unsympathetic in relation to social problems. I told him major cause US youth dis-satisfaction was increasing military police state tendency in US and spoiling everyone's normal life and feelings which I think is a statement partially accurate and something to him to consider since he makes social generalisation as apparently he does.
Avoid the authorities
In a sense his position is not far from Krishna-murti or Leary -- stay out of politics, 'avoid the authorities, get into meditation and inner peace etc.' His division of the peace problem into parts . . . . individuals solve their own . . . is real enough. I don't suppose he's built or required to be a social utopian structure messiah. But in as much as he does stray into political generalisations he sounds inexperienced or ignorant and unfamiliarly authoritarian.
So anyway that's what I could come to listening and talking. He was nice to me, didn't know who I was, asked at first what I did. I said Kovie -- poet. There's an element of too much mesmerised politeness at his darshans (public viewings) -- a guru is someone who you should make it with, learn from, listen to, enquire -- otherwise it's mere 'religion' which Maharishi himself puts down as a failure.
Definitely dim-witted
The main burden that everyone should meditate half hour morning and night makes sense. His blank cheque claims that his extra special meditation form is more efficient than any other is something I haven't tried so I can't judge. His high powered organisation method of advertising meditation is getting, like Pyramid club of people meditating and massive enthusiasm application which would certainly tend to accomplish general peacefulness if it caught on massively and universally. His political statements are definitely dim-witted and a bit out of place.
You just showed me what might be the front and back album photos for the record you're putting out of the music you and Yoko composed for your film Two Virgins. The photos have the simplicity of a daguerreotype. . . .
Well, that's because I took it. I'm a ham photographer, you know. It's me Nikon what I was given by a commercially minded Japanese when we were in Japan, along with me Pentax, me Canon, me boom-boom and all the others. So I just set it up and did it.
For the cover, there's a photo of you and Yoko standing naked facing the camera. And on the backside are your backsides. What do you think people are going to think of the cover?
Well, we've got that to come. The thing is, I started it with a pure . . . it was the truth, and it was only after I'd got into it and done it and looked at it that I'd realized what kind of scene I was going to create. And then suddenly, there it was, and then suddenly you show it to people and then you know what the world's going to do to you, or try to do. But you have no knowledge of it when you conceive it or make it. Originally, I was going to record Yoko, and I thought the best picture of her for an album would be her naked. I was just going to record her as an artist. We were only on those kind of terms then. So after that, we got together, it just seemed natural for us, if we made an album together, for both of us to be naked. Of course, I've never seen me prick on an album or on a photo before: "Whatnearth, there's a fellow with his prick out." And that was the first time I realized me prick was out, you know. I mean, you can see it on the photo itself - we're naked in front of a camera - that comes over in the eyes, just for a minute you go!! I mean, you're not used to it, being naked, but it's got to come out.
How do you face the fact that people are going to mutilate you?
Well, I can take that as long as we can get the cover out. And I really don't know what the chances are of that.
You don't worry about the nuts across the street?
No, no. I know it won't be very comfortable walking around with all the lorry drivers whistling and that, but it'll all die. Next year it'll be nothing, like miniskirts or bare tits. It isn't anything. We're all naked really. When people attack Yoko and me, we know they're paranoiac. We don't worry too much. It's the ones that don't know, and you know they don't know - they're just going round in a blue fuzz. The thing is, the album also says: Look, lay off will you? It's two people - what have we done?
Lenny Bruce once compared himself to a doctor, saying that if people weren't sick, there wouldn't be any need for him.
That's the bit, isn't it? Since we started being more natural in public - the four of us - we've really had a lot of knocking. I mean, we're always natural. I mean, you can't help it. We couldn't have been where we are if we hadn't done that. We wouldn't have been us either. And it took four of us to enable us to do it; we couldn't have done it alone and kept that up. I don't know why I get knocked more often. I seem to open me mouth more often, something happens, I forget what I am till it all happens again. I mean, we just get knocked - from the underground, the pop world - me personally. They're all doing it. They've got to stop soon.
Couldn't you go off to your own community and not be bothered with all of this?
Well, it's just the same there, you see. India was a bit of that, it was a taste of it - it's the same. So there's a small community, it's the same gig, it's relative. There's no escape.
Your show at the Fraser Gallery gave critics a chance to take a swipe at you.
Oh, right, but putting it on was taking a swipe at them in a way. I mean, that's what it was about. What they couldn't understand was that - a lot of them were saying, well, if it hadn't been for John Lennon nobody would have gone to it, but as it was, it was me doing it. And if it had been Sam Bloggs it would have been nice. But the point of it was - it was me. And they're using that as a reason to say why it didn't work. Work as what?
Do you think Yoko's film of you smiling would work if it were just anyone smiling?
Yes, it works with somebody else smiling, but she went through all this. It originally started out that she wanted a million people all over the world to send in a snapshot of themselves smiling, and then it got down to lots of people smiling, and then maybe one or two and then me smiling as a symbol of today smiling - and that's what I am, whatever that means. And so it's me smiling, and that's the hang-up, of course, because it's me again. But they've got to see it someday - it's only me. I don't mind if people go to the film to see me smiling because it doesn't matter, it's not harmful. The idea of the film won't really be dug for another fifty or a hundred years probably. That's what it's all about. I just happen to be that face.
It's too bad people can't come down here individually to see how you're living.
Well, that's it. I didn't see Ringo and his wife for about a month when I first got together with Yoko, and there were rumors going around about the film and all that. Maureen was saying she really had some strange ideas about where we were at and what we were up to. And there were some strange reactions from all me friends and at Apple about Yoko and me and what we were doing - "Have they gone mad?" But of course it was just us, you know, and if they are puzzled or reacting strangely to us two being together and doing what we're doing, it's not hard to visualize the rest of the world really having some amazing image.
International Times recently published an interview with Jean-Luc Godard . . .
Oh yeah, right, he said we should do something. Now that's sour grapes from a man who couldn't get us to be in his film [One Plus One, in which the Stones appear], and I don't expect it from people like that. Dear Mr. Godard, just because we didn't want to be in the film with you, it doesn't mean to say that we aren't doing any more than you. We should do whatever we're all doing.
But Godard put it in activist political terms. He said that people with influence and money should be trying to blow up the establishment and that you weren't.
What's he think we're doing? He wants to stop looking at his own films and look around.
Time magazine came out and said, look, the Beatles say "no" to destruction.
What would you tell a black-power guy who's changed his head and then finds a wall there all the time?
Well, I can't tell him anything 'cause he's got to do it himself. If destruction's the only way he can do it, there's nothing I can say that could influence him 'cause that's where he's at, really. We've all got that in us, too, and that's why I did the "Out and In" bit on a few takes and in the TV version of "Revolution" - "Destruction, well, you know, you can count me out, and in," like yin and yang. I prefer "out." But we've got the other bit in us. I don't know what I'd be doing if I was in his position. I don't think I'd be so meek and mild. I just don't know.
Do you write your music with instruments or in your head?
On piano or guitar. Most of this session has been written on guitar 'cause we were in India and only had our guitars there. They have a different feel about them. I missed the piano a bit because you just write differently. My piano playing is even worse than me guitar. I hardly know what the chords are, so it's good to have a slightly limited palette, heh heh.
What did you think of Dylan's "version" of "Norwegian Wood"? ("Fourth Time Around.")
I was very paranoid about that. I remember he played it to me when he was in London. He said, "What do you think?" I said, "I don't like it." I didn't like it. I was very paranoid. I just didn't like what I felt I was feeling - I thought it was an out-and-out skit, you know, but it wasn't. It was great. I mean, he wasn't playing any tricks on me. I was just going through the bit.
Is there anybody besides Dylan you've gotten something from musically?
Oh, millions. All those I mentioned before - Little Richard, Presley.
Anyone contemporary?
Are they dead? Well, nobody sustains it. I've been buzzed by the Stones and other groups, but none of them can sustain the buzz for me continually through a whole album or through three singles even.
You and Dylan are often thought of together in the same way.
Yeah? Yeah, well we were for a bit, but I couldn't make it. Too paranoiac. I always saw him when he was in London. He first turned us on in New York actually. He thought "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - when it goes "I can't hide" - he thought we were singing "I get high." So he turns up with Al Aronowitz and turns us on, and we had the biggest laugh all night - forever. Fantastic. We've got a lot to thank him for.
Do you ever see him anymore?
No, 'cause he's living his cozy little life, doing that bit. If I was in New York, he'd be the person I'd most like to see. I've grown up enough to communicate with him. Both of us were always uptight, you know, and of course I wouldn't know whether he was uptight, because I was so uptight. And then, when he wasn't uptight, I was - all that bit. But we just sat it out because we just liked being together.
What about the new desire to return to a more natural environment? Dylan's return to country music?
Dylan broke his neck and we went to India. Everybody did their bit. And now we're all just coming out, coming out of a shell, in a new way, kind of saying, remember what it was like to play.
Do you feel better now?
Yes . . . and worse.
What do you feel about India now?
I've got no regrets at all, 'cause it was a groove and I had some great experiences meditating eight hours a day - some amazing things, some amazing trips - it was great. And I still meditate off and on. George is doing it regularly. And I believe implicitly in the whole bit. It's just that it's difficult to continue it. I lost the rosy glasses. And I'm like that. I'm very idealistic. So I can't really manage my exercises when I've lost that. I mean, I don't want to be a boxer so much. It's just that a few things happened, or didn't happen. I don't know, but something happened. It was sort of like a [click] and we just left and I don't know what went on. It's too near - I don't really know what happened.
Wasn't it about the time of Rubber Soul that you moved away from the old records to something quite different?
Yes, yes, we got involved completely in ourselves then. I think it was Rubber Soul when we did all our own numbers. Something just happened. We controlled it a bit. Whatever it was we were putting over, we just tried to control it a bit.
Are there any other versions of your songs you like?
Well, Ray Charles' version of "Yesterday" - that's beautiful. And "Eleanor Rigby" is a groove. I just dig the strings on that. Like Thirties strings. Jose Feliciano does great things to "Help!" and "Day Tripper." "Got To Get You Into My Life" - sure, we were doing 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. If we played a Stones record now, and a Beatles record - and we've been apart - you'd find a lot of similarities. We're all heavy. Just heavy. How did we ever do anything light? What we're trying to do is rock & roll, with less of your philosorock, is what we're saying to ourselves. And get on with rocking because rockers is what we really are. You can give me a guitar, stand me up in front of a few people. Even in the studio, if I'm getting into it, I'm just doing my old bit - not quite doing Elvis Legs but doing my equivalent. It's just natural. Everybody says we must do this and that but our thing is just rocking - you know, the usual gig. That's what this new record is about. Definitely rocking. What we were doing on Pepper was rocking - and not rocking. "A Day in the Life" - that was something. I dug it. It was a good piece of work between Paul and me. I had the "I read the news today" bit, and it turned Paul on. Now and then we really turn each other on with a bit of song, and he just said "yeah" - bang bang, like that. It just sort of happened beautifully, and we arranged it and rehearsed it, which we don't often do, the afternoon before. So we all knew what we were playing, we all got into it. It was a real groove, the whole scene on that one. Paul sang half of it and I sang half. I needed a middle-eight for it, but that would have been forcing it. All the rest had come out smooth, flowing, no trouble, and to write a middle-eight would have been to write a middle-eight, but instead Paul already had one there. It's a bit of 2001, you know.
Songs like "Good Morning, Good Morning" and "Penny Lane" convey a child's feeling of the world.
We write about our past. "Good Morning, Good Morning," I was never proud of it. I just knocked it off to do a song. But it was writing about my past so it does get the kids because it was me at school, my whole bit. The same with "Penny Lane." We really got into the groove of imagining Penny Lane - the bank was there, and that was where the tram sheds were and people waiting and the inspector stood there, the fire engines were down there. It was just reliving childhood.
You really had a place where you grew up.
Oh, yeah. Didn't you?
Well, Manhattan isn't Liverpool.
Well, you could write about your local bus station.
In Manhattan?
Sure, why not? Everywhere is somewhere.
In "Hey, Jude," as in one of your first songs, "She Loves You," you're singing to someone else and yet you might as well be singing to yourself. Do you find that as well?
Oh, yeah. Well, when Paul first sang "Hey, Jude" to me - or played me the little tape he'd made of it - I took it very personally. "Ah, it's me!" I said. "It's me." Hey says, "No, it's me." I said, "Check, we're going through the same bit." So we all are. Whoever is going through a bit with us is going through it, that's the groove.
In the Magical Mystery Tour theme songs you say, "The Magical Mystery Tour is waiting to take you away." In Sgt. Pepper you sing, "We'd like to take you home with us." How do you relate this embracing, come-sit-down-on-my-lawn feeling in the songs with your need for everyday privacy?
I take a narrower concept of it, like whoever was around at the time wanting to talk to them talked to me, but of course it does have that wider aspect to it. The concept is very good and I went through it and said, "Well, okay. Let them sit on my lawn." But of course it doesn't work. People climbed in the house and smashed things up, and then you think, "That's no good, that doesn't work." So actually you're saying, "Don't talk to me," really. We're all trying to say nice things like that but most of the time we can't make it - ninety percent of the time - and the odd time we do make it, when we do it, together as people. You can say it in a song: "Well, whatever I did say to you that day about getting out of the garden, part of me said that but, really, in my heart of hearts, I'd like to have it right and talk to you and communicate." Unfortunately we're human, you know - it doesn't seem to work.
I've listed a group of songs that I associate with you, in terms of what you are or what you were, songs that struck me as embodying you a little bit: "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away," "Strawberry Fields," "It's Only Love," "She Said She Said," "Lucy in the Sky," "I'm Only Sleeping," "Run for Your Life," "I Am the Walrus," "All You Need Is Love," "Rain," "Girl."
The ones that really meant something to me - look, I don't know about "Hide Your Love Away," that's so long ago - probably "Strawberry Fields," "She Said," "Walrus," "Rain," "Girl," there are just one or two others, "Day Tripper," "Paperback Writer," even. "Ticket To Ride" was one more, I remember that. It was a definite sort of change. "Norwegian Wood" - that was the sitar bit. Definitely, I consider them moods or moments.
There have been a lot of philosophical analyses written about your songs, "Strawberry Fields," in particular . . .
Well, they can take them apart. They can take anything apart. I mean, I hit it on all levels, you know. We write lyrics, and I write lyrics that you don't realize what they mean till after. Especially some of the better songs or some of the more flowing ones, like "Walrus." The whole first verse was written without any knowledge. And "Tomorrow Never Knows" - I didn't know what I was saying, and you just find out later. I know that when there are some lyrics I dig I know that somewhere people will be looking at them. And I dig the people that notice that I have a sort of strange rhythm scene, because I've never been able to keep rhythm on the stage. I always used to get lost. It's me double off-beats.
What is Strawberry Fields?
It's a name, it's a nice name. When I was writing "In My Life," - I was trying "Penny Lane" at that time - we were trying to write about Liverpool, and I just listed all the nice-sounding names, just arbitrarily. Strawberry Fields was a place near us that happened to be a Salvation Army home. But Strawberry Fields - I mean, I have visions of Strawberry Fields. And there was Penny Lane, and the Cast Iron Shore, which I've just got in some song now, and they were just good names - just groovy names. Just good sounding. Because Strawberry Fields is anywhere you want to go.
Pop analysts are often trying to read something into songs that isn't there.
It is there. It's like abstract art really. It's just the same really. It's just that when you have to think about it to write it, it just means that you labored at it. But when you just say it, man, you know you're saying it, it's a continuous flow. The same as when you're recording or just playing. You come out of a thing and you know "I've been there," and it was nothing, it was just pure, and that's what we're looking for all the time, really.
How much do you think the songs go toward building up a myth of a state of mind?
I don't know. I mean, we got a bit pretentious. Like everybody, we had our phase and now it's a little change over to trying to be more natural, less "newspaper taxis," say. I mean, we're just changing. I don't know what we're doing at all, I just write them. Really, I just like rock & roll. I mean, these [pointing to a pile of Fifties records] are the records I dug then, I dig them now and I'm still trying to reproduce "Some Other Guy" sometimes or "Be-Bop-A-Lula." Whatever it is, it's the same bit for me. It's really just the sound.
The Beatles seem to be one of the only groups who ever made a distinction between friends and lovers. For instance, there's "baby" who can drive your car. But when it comes to "We Can Work It Out," you talk about "my friend." In most other groups' songs, calling someone "baby" is a bit demeaning compared to your distinction.
Yeah, I don't know why. It's Paul's bit that - "Buy you a diamond ring, my friend" - it's an alternative to baby. You can take it logically, the way you took it. See, I don't know really. Yours is as true a way of looking at it as any other way. In "Baby, You're a Rich Man" the point was, stop moaning. You're a rich man and we're all rich men, heh, heh, baby!
I've felt your other mood recently: "Here I stand, head in hand" in "Hide Your Love Away" and "When I was a boy, everything was right" in "She Said She Said."
Yeah, right. That was pure. That was what I meant all right. You see, when I wrote that I had the "She said she said," but it was just meaning nothing. It was just vaguely to do with someone who had said something like he knew what it was like to be dead, and then it was just a sound. And then I wanted a middle-eight. The beginning had been around for days and days and so I wrote the first thing that came into my head and it was "When I was a boy," in a different beat, but it was real because it just happened. It's funny, because while we're recording we're all aware and listening to our old records and we say, we'll do one like "The Word" - make it like that. It never does turn out like that, but we're always comparing and talking about the old albums - just checking up, what is it? like swatting up for the exam - just listening to everything.
Yet people think you're trying to get away from the old records.
But I'd like to make a record like "Some Other Guy." I haven't done one that satisfies me as much as that satisfied me. Or "Be-Bop-A-Lula" or "Heartbreak Hotel" or "Good Golly, Miss Molly" or "Whole Lot of Shakin'." I'm not being modest. I mean, we're still trying it. We sit there in the studio and we say, "How did it go, how did it go? Come on, let's do that." Like what Fats Domino has done with "Lady Madonna" - "See how they ruhhnnn."
The interview took place at John Lennon and Yoko Ono's temporary basement flat in London - flat where Jimi Hendrix, Ringo Starr and William Burroughs, among others, have stayed. But the flat seemed as much John and Yoko's as the Indian incense that took over the living room. The walls were covered with photos of John, of Yoko, a giant Sgt. Pepper ensign, Richard Chamberlain's poster collage of news clippings of the Stones bust, the Time magazine cover of the Beatles.
We arrived at five on the afternoon of September 17, said hello to gallery owner Robert Fraser, who had arranged the interview, and to John and Yoko, sitting together, looking "très bien ensemble." We sat down around a simple wooden table covered with magazines, newspapers, sketch paper, boxes, drawings, a beaded necklace shaped in the form of a pentangle.
John said he had to be at a recording session in half an hour, so we talked for a while about John's show at the Fraser Gallery.
When we arrived the next afternoon, September 18, John was walking around the room, humming what sounded like "Hold Me Tight" - just singing the song to the air. Old Fifties 45s were scattered about the floor, and John played Rosie and the Originals' version of "Give Me Love." We talked about the lyrics of Gene Vincent's "Woman Love." In spite of having slept only two hours, John asked us to sit down on the floor and begin the interview.
Any suspicions that John would be ornery, mean, cruel or brutish - feelings attributed to him and imagined by press reports and various paranoiac personalities - never arose even for the purpose of being pressed down. As John said simply about the interview: "There's nothing more fun than talking about your own songs and your own records. I mean, you can't help it, it's your bit, really. We talk about them together. Remember that."
Ever been to a press conference? A real press conference with, say, Paul McCartney and John Lennon of the Beatles? You haven't? Well, then, grab your note book, pen, and camera, and come along with us for the super-exclusive of the decade!
Come with us to the Americana Hotel in New York City. Come with us to meet Paul McCartney and John Lennon. They are holding a press conference here today to announce the transformation of Beatles, Ltd., into Apple Corps, Ltd., a company to serve as headquarters for their projects in films, records, electronics, and merchandising.
(But even business for the Beatles can be a creative thing: one Apple exec told us that a board meeting was held here last weekend on board a rented Chinese junk anchored in the harbor!)
Come with us into the room. It is filled with newspapermen, photographers, magazine writers, representatives from radio and television, and even a few screaming fans who have managed to sneak through the hotel's tight security system. Everyone has a question to ask.
All of a sudden, they are here!
Q: What are your feeling about the Maharishi?
John: I think the Maharishi was a mistake. His teachings have some truth in them, but I think that we made a mistake.
Q: Do you think that other people who see the Maharishi are making a mistake?
John: It's up to them.
Paul: He's human, that's all. We thought that there was more to him than what there was, but he's human. For a while, we thought he wasn't you know.
Q: Do you have any new philosophical leaders?
Paul: No.
John: Me!
Q: What was there about the screenplay for The Yellow Submarine that made you favor it over the screenplays you rejected?
John: We never saw it. But the drawings are nice.
Q: Will you be making any more public appearances?
John: I don't know.
Paul: We may be.
Q: Why are you here today?
John: To do this.
Q: What is "this"?
John: What's it look like?!?
(Everyone laughs as the "game" of press conference becomes more and more absurd.)
John (continuing): Well, you know. What are you doing here?
Q: What is this Apple Corps that you've initiated?
John: It's a business concerning records, films, electronics, and--as a sideline--"manufacturing" or whatever it's called. We just want to set up a system whereby people who just want to make a film about anything don't have to go on their knees in somebody's office--probably yours!
(Laughter and applause.)
Q: Could you be a little more specific--
John: No.
Q: --about the profits of Apple Corps and where they will go? And where did you get the name?
John: Well, it's just--what can you call it?--Apple. It's to do what I said, you know, in a businesslike way, but business and pleasure might be feasible.
Q: This is your first trip to New York in four years. Would you say that your popularity is waning somewhat?
John: We don't really think about it in those terms.
Q: Do you plan to come back (to New York) as a group?
John: We don't plan. We (Paul and I) just came suddenly. We look after our own affairs and we don't plan. Now, we haven't a manager, and there's no planning at all.
Paul: This is chaos.
Q: Did you find the same kind of hysteria there to greet you when you came into New York this time as was there on previous occasions?
John: Well, I saw something going on at the airport. You could see as well as me that I was being hustled along there. It feels the same whether it was five kids or five thousand. The same atmosphere is there.
Q: John, it said in the press release that you plan to make a film of A Spaniard in the Works.
John: Yeah. That's a rough book to read at times. It depends on how you feel.
Q: How do you plan the film?
John: Yeah, well, I really can't explain it. I'll just have to make the film out of the two books (In His Own Write, too). How I'll do it, I don't know--but I'll do it. I can't really say how I'm going to do it. I haven't got it on paper, you know.
Q: Mr. Lennon, there seems to be a ferment going on among students in Germany, France, and the United States--but not in England.
John: Yes, there's something going on, but we're just a bit more tweedy there.
Paul: It's going on, but they just do it in an English way, whatever that is.
Q: Do you have any idea why that is?
John: No, but there's some clue they're giving us. I'm not sure. Something's going on, but "I don't know what it is, Mr. Jones," ditto.
Q: Why haven't the Beatles been more political?
John: Do you mean, Why haven't we joined one of the clubs?
Q: No.
John: Well, a lot of this has been talked about before. If there is anything in particular, just ask.
Q: Well, what about the war in Vietnam?
John: We came out against it years ago. Where have you been?
Paul: In Vietnam?
Q: I heard that you were in New York because of a lawsuit--
John: Rubbish. We're here to talk about apples, you know.
Q: Is it true that Ringo wants to be in a Broadway play?
John: It's being filmed by the National Theater in England. I don't know what's going on here!
Q: Do you have any plans for showing Magical Mystery Tour in this country?
John: Yes. We'll put it on in the street with a screen and a projector.
Q: According to the press release, Apple will be making animated cartoons, TV programs, and TV commercials. What sort of thing will your company do that we don't see on TV now?
John (to Paul): We don't know, do we?
Paul: No.
John: We haven't started.
Paul: We only came over here to plan it so we don't know too much about it yet. We'll tell you about it quietly someday--you know, give you the old program.
(A photographer with a heavy Brooklyn accent bellows out, "Hey, kid, will you get your hand out of my picture!?!" Everyone laughs.)
John: All human hands out of the pictures, please!
(More laughter.)
Q: Are the Beatles still meditating?
John: Yeah.
Paul: Yeah, now and then.
John: At this moment!
Q: Do you ever want to trip out again?
John: You never know, do you? It's hard to be very specific . . . because I don't know what I'm doing, do I!?!
Q: What kind of electronic devices do you plan to manufacture?
Paul: Ah, the electronic things. Well, they're not like gimmicks. They are just great inventions. Our friend Alex over there (on the podium) is a genius. And he's beautiful, he's just incredible.
John: There's no such thing as a genius, you know. But if there are any, he's one.
Q: Can you give us an example (of product)?
John: No! You know about those long, nasty men in brown raincoats and sunglasses that you discover in the business world. And so, you don't say what it is until it's out, do you?
Paul: But it's incredible.
Q: The press release says that you have established a foundation for selected charities. Can you explain?
John: Well, it's a fund not specifically for charities, you know. But there is some way in which you can do something where you set up a foundation to pay for people who want to make films about a glass on a table. There's some way of doing it. So, we'll find out and do that.
Q: Have any of Alex's inventions been used on any of your records?
John: No--but possibly on our next record.
Q: Why did you return to an almost Mersey-like beat for "Lady Madonna"?
John: Because we felt like it.
Paul (smiling): There's nothing in it, but that was it. "A record like any other would smell as sweet!"
Q: Speaking of politics, what do you think of the Liberian Movement for Liberation?
John: I haven't heard about it. But good luck to 'em!
Q: What do you think about what's been going on at Columbia University?
Paul: What's been going on?
John (to Paul): They've been on strike, the same thing that's going on elsewhere. Something's going on!
Q: Are drugs more important to the youth of today than they were four years ago?
John: I don't know what they're doing. I have no idea.
Paul: It's probably about the same. Maybe a little less.
Q: Can you give us some idea of the capitalization of Apple?
John: No. We can only use our common sense and have the right people to handle these things like capitalization.
Paul (to John): What's that mean? Capitalization?
Q: How much money are you putting in?
John: I don't know--and that's the joke!
Paul: We'll do the details some other time--because we don't know.
Q: We hear that you are about to make a distribution deal for films with a major U.S. corporation. Will this influence your choice of material?
Paul: No.
John: Any deals we make will be short-term. We'll be sure to get what we want. Otherwise, we won't do it. So, we'll make sure.
Q: I'd like to ask you about the Apple Foundation for the Arts.
John: It's not for the arts! (To an Apple promo man:) Who slipped that one on?!?
Paul: It's an easy way to make a film. Say that somebody wants to make a film like Andy Warhol did on the Empire State Building. Most people wouldn't want to finance it because it wouldn't be commercial. Well, if you finance it through a foundation, it doesn't have to be commercial. That's all it is.
Q: Are you giving away some sort of Beatles scholarships?
Paul: Yeah, but don't put it that way! It sounds terrible! We're just giving them away.
John: We'll see what happens.
Paul: Well, if we give one away to someone, it will be commercial in a way, too. Because, later, that someone will do another film--for us!
Q: Will Apple also be grooming new talent?
John: We hope so. Groups, actors, anything.
Q: Will you open a school in London?
Paul: Well, that's an idea. All we've got to do now is to get it set up on its feet. Then, what follows will be a natural progression.
Q: Do you plan to have scouts or representatives go out and look for new groups?
John: We'll have to find out how you do it--or how you meant to do it--and if that's the way you should do it. Then, we'll find out.
Paul (laughing): So, leave your tapes at the door as you go out!
Q: Is it possible that Apple can do anything about what's happening in radio?
John: British radio, huh?
Q: Radio.
John (furrowing his brow): Radio, yes.
Paul: That's worse!
John: Radio's worth looking into, you know. There's a lot of things to do.
Paul: At the moment, you know, we do the four things. It hasn't gone into radio yet--but it might.
Q: Are your records still banned in South Africa?
John: I believe so. Well, I mean, what do you think of South Africa?
Q: John, do you plan to write any more books?
John: I'm not planning on it, but I do have bits of paper with words on them.
Q: Do the individual members of the group have specific areas of interest in Apple?
John: Well, it might develop that way. There's nothing planned.
Q: Will it be difficult to follow up Sgt. Pepper with something better?
Paul: Yes, it will be difficult all right!
John: But no more difficult than it was to do.
Paul: Oh, it'll be all right, the next one. Don't worry.
Q: When will the next record be?
Paul: I don't know.
John: We start it when we get back.
Q: How would you describe your mental state right now?
John: It depends on what you're relating it to.
Paul: Relaxed.
Q: Where are you planning to build your new recording studio?
John: It'll be in the dungeons of our office.
Q: Who's designing it?
John: Alex, from the Electronics Division.
Q: How many tracks will there be? Eight or 12?
John: Oh, millions. Millions. One track for each finger.
Q: Why did you choose the name, Apple?
John: Why did you choose the names your kids have got?
Paul: It's just a name.
John: I mean, there's nothing to it.
Paul: A is for Apple. It's very simple, you know!
John: An Apple for the teacher.
Q: Will any of the three gentlemen standing next to you control the production money?
John: They will, sort of, but the final say is with us.
Q: You'll get the money?
Paul: Yeah. You see, we don't know anything about business yet, so they do it--and they're good at it. All we do is to apply common sense to it.
Q: Where are the other two Beatles?
John: No idea.
Paul: In bed, probably! Oh, in England.
Q: What are your plans for opening a club in New York?
John: I don't know. There aren't any real plans.
Q: What about the rumors that you're going to buy Generation?
John: What about them? I didn't hear of it till Sunday myself!
Q: Will the four Beatles own 100 per cent of Apple? And will you be equal partners?
John: Yes.
Q: Do you think that some of your records are influencing the minds of the younger generation?
John: Well, everybody's records influence the mind, you know. All at once. Everything influences everything. Nillson's my favorite group.
Q: Would you comment on the mood of youth around the world, the protest movement, and what's going on?
Paul: People want to know what's going on, and no one knows at the moment.
John: Whether the movement is right or wrong, it's better than no movement.
Q: Do you have any specific reason for going on The Tonight Show tonight?
John: I don't know what happened.
Paul: We just seemed to be on it.
Q: I just wanted to ask you how you are!
Paul: Quite well! Hey, an' 'or 'r' you!?!
Q: High!
Paul: "Six feet high and rising"?!?
Q: Would you say that Magical Mystery Tour is a better or worse album than Sgt. Pepper?
John: It's not an album, you see. It's turned into an album over here, but it was just music from the film. Then, it's not an album.
Q: Has the film been bought over here?
John: I haven't a clue and I really don't care.
Q: Do George and Ringo feel the same way as you do about the Maharishi?
John: Yes. We tend to go in and out together, I mean, with a few spaces. So, yes.
Q: Are the Beatles going to make another movie this summer?
John: Well, we don't know when we're going to make it, but it will be this year or the early part of next year.
Q: What did you think of the critical reception to Magical Mystery Tour?
John: Well, I mean, it's-- It doesn't matter. But it does. Oh, it really doesn't matter, you know. Why it's no on now is what matters.
Paul: They (the critics) were disappointed.
Q: Were the criticisms valid?
John: Valid? I didn't see any valid points. It was just hysteria and that bit.
Paul: You see, they expected a tinselly Christmas show--because it was shown on Christmas--and you know that it was very different from that--so we shocked them a bit!
John: They didn't like it, you know. They thought we were stepping out of our roles. They like us to stay in the cardboard suits they designed for us.
Q: What roles do they want you to stay in?
John: Well, whatever image they have for themselves, they're disappointed if we don't fulfill it. We never do, so there's always a lot of disappointment.
Q: Do you think press conferences are a drag?
John: Well, they're not something I choose to do, but they're fun. It's work and business.
Q: Paul, what do you think of Jimi Hendrix?
Paul: He's great.
Q: Why do the Beatles meditate?
Paul: Because it seems to be nice. Like cleaning your teeth, you know, it just has some kind of end product.
Q: What do you think of the Mothers of Invention?
Paul: I think they're doing very well.
Q: What did the Beatles have to do with the creation of the marvelous fantasy characters in The Yellow Submarine?
Paul: Not much. There's a really good artist named Heinz (Edelmann) who created them.
Q: Do you plan to sing in French or in any other language other than English?
John: No, we don't make plans. We did "She Loves You" in German, and that was about it, I think.
Paul (smiling): Then, the English version became a hit, you know.
(Everyone laughs.)
Q: How often do you turn on?
John: It's happening all the time, you know.
Q: Will you be doing a TV special soon?
John: I don't know.
Paul: Maybe. Quite possibly.
John: We've got to do another album. We don't know what happens until we do that.
Q: Have you ever thought of making a record, a film, or a TV special over here?
John: It's quite possible, yes. Why not? Except that we live over there.
Q: But you could fly over again.
John: Yeah, sure. But is it worth the journey?
Q: Are there any plans for an Apple clothing store in the United States?
John: No. No plans.
Q: What is the meaning of "I Am the Walrus"?
John: It just means, I am the walrus. Or I was when I sat down, you know.
1. Which Beatle was born during a heavy air-raid at seven in the morning at Oxford Street Maternity Hospital, Liverpool?
2. Which Beatle earned 50s. a week as a British Railways messenger boy and then worked as a barman on the Liverpool-North Wales boats?
3. What did the Beatles record as a follow-up to "Love Me Do"?
4. What was the actual date Paul and Jane became engaged?
5. What song did George write on a harmonium at Manfred Klaus Voormann's house?
6. Which Beatle edited, wrote and illustrated a series of home-made books called "Sport, Speed and Illustrated" when he was seven?
7. Who wrote "I Lost My Little Girl" in 1956?
8. Who was the drummer when the Beatles backed Johnny Gentle for a fortnight's tour of Scotland in 1960?
9. Who earned £7 a week winding electric coils in 1961?
10. When did Paul, George and John call themselves Paul Ramon, Carl Harrison and Johnny Silver?
11. Where did the Beatles appear in concert on a bill topped by Frank Ifield?
12. Which Beatle won a book called "Seven Queens of England" in 1953 as a school Coronation Year Essay Prize?
13. Where can you find "The best photographs of the Beatles . . . much better than any which appear in newspapers"?
The correct answers are below
1. John, on October 9, 1940.
2. Ringo--and each job lasted just six weeks.
3. "How Do You Do It"--but the recording was never released. They made "Please Please Me" instead and Gerry and the Pacemakers used the other song.
4. Christmas Day, 1967.
5. "Within You Without You".
6. John--his Aunt Mimi still keeps the original copies.
7. Paul--one of his very first compositions.
8. Thomas Moore.
9. Paul.
10. When they were billed as The Silver Beatles nearly eight years ago.
11. For promoter Arthur Howes at Peterborough's Embassy Theatre in 1962.
12. Paul--who still has the prize book in his library.
13. Right here in "THE BEATLES MONTHLY BOOK"--according to author Hunter Davies who writes in his biography of the Beatles: "It has been going since August 1963 and is the longest-running fan magazine in the country. Instead of taking a lot of profits out of it, NEMS insists upon its quality being maintained by having, for example, many full colour pictures. It is an excellent publication."
I have picked out just a handful of the fascinating facts to be found in Hunter Davies' forthcoming biography of the Beatles, the first officially authorised life-story, to be published in Britain at the end of September. At least a further 1,000 equally interesting answers come out in the course of Hunter's book.
After an introduction which condenses a history of Liverpool into several pages of print, Hunter opens his first chapter by looking back more than 50 years to the time when John's father, Fred Lennon, was born in Liverpool, the son of a Dubliner who had been an original member of the Kentucky Minstrels! He recalls how a five-year-old John almost emigrated to New Zealand and how John made his earliest school friendships--with Ivan Vaughan and Pete Shotton.
Taught Himself
The second chapter, headed "John And The Quarrymen", moves forward to John's teenage years in the first half of the 'fifties and shows how his upbringing was divided between his mother and his Aunt Mimi, and how he taught himself to play the mouth-organ with a little help from a bus conductor.
Next comes a couple of chapters devoted to Paul's childhood, his early days at Stockton Wood Road Primary and the memories of younger brother Michael, better known as Scaffold member Mike McGear. Paul's father wanted him to join Liverpool Cathedral Choir. "I made him go, but he deliberately cracked his voice in the audition. He did join St. Chad's Choir, near Penny Lane, for a while."
Paul was given an old trumpet by an uncle and taught himself to pick out tunes on it. Later still Paul was introduced to John by their mutual mate Ivan Vaughan, and John remembers being very impressed by Paul playing "Twenty Flight Rock" on the guitar, an informal audition which won him a place in the Quarrymen for a date at a local Conservative Club dance the following week.
George, the fourth child and third son of Harold and Louise Harrison, was "always very independent and never wanted any assistance of any kind", admits his mother. In 1954 George started at Liverpool Institute. Paul was already there, in the year ahead. He once went to school with a canary yellow waistcoat under his school blazer. It belonged to his brother Harry, but George thought he looked terrific in it. His first guitar, bought by his mother for £3, was used for endless practice. He kept at it until his fingers were bleeding.
"I first saw the Quarrymen when they were playing at Wilson Hall in Garston. Paul was playing with them and said I should come", recalls George.
Chords
"George wanted to join us because he knew more chords, a lot more than we knew. So we got a lot from him. Every time we learned a new chord, we'd write a song round it", adds John.
"A lot of people in little boxes all trying to get out", is how Ringo remembers his hometown neighbourhood of Dingle, not far from Liverpool's dock area.
When he was six, after less than a year at St. Silas' Junior School, Ringo developed an appendicitis which burst and became peritonitis. His spell at Myrtle Street Children's Hospital--just over 12 months--was the first of several prolonged periods of indisposition which kept him away from school. Today he can't remember the names of any school masters, but he does remember the names of nurses who cared for him.
His first set of drums cost £100. He went to his Grandad for the £50 deposit.
Hunter's story moves on to chronicle John's days at Art College, his meeting with Cynthia, the time when the Quarrymen became the Moondogs, and then the Silver Beatles, and the group's first highly colourful trip to Hamburg in 1960.
Later chapters deal in much depth with Brian Epstein, the substituting of Ringo for drummer Pete Best, touring, Beatlemania in America, the so-called Beatle Business Empire, the period when the Beatles turned from drugs to meditation and, finally, the group as it is today.
One entire section deals with the death of Brian Epstein, another with the Beatles' closest relatives and friends, another with an impressive study of the Beatles' songwriting techniques.
Family
And there are another four chapters headed John, Paul, George and Ringo, with family conversations set in each Beatle home and involving the first really detailed interview material with Cynthia, Pattie, Maureen and Jane. Despite the fascination of the early part of the biography with all its childhood stories, this final segment of Hunter's book may be of greatest interest to Beatle People. Here are extended discussion pieces in which each one talks about the past, the present and the future with greater frankness and in greater depth than is possible via any newspaper or magazine feature.
When Hunter Davies had finished his writing, proof-copies of the book were circulated to each Beatle. All four read it in detail. So did their families and close friends. So everything in the finished book has been checked and re-checked for factual accuracy. For the first time Beatle People will have a true and very comprehensive book of reference.
Recently GEORGE HARRISON moved into the record production field for the first time. Having used THE REMO FOUR as session musicians for some of his "Wonderwall" film soundtrack work, George went a step further and invited the group to make a new single under his studio supervision.
The Beatles and The Remo Four have known one another for many years--they were together in the Liverpool Cavern days. Remo lead guitarist COLIN MANLEY has written the following zany account of the group's studio stint.
"THE WESTERN PRINCE AND THE TIRESOME FOUR" A SORT OF REAL-LIFE FAIRYTALE BY COLIN MANLEY
The Characters: The Mythical Western Prince (Tireless George Harrison) The Tiresome Four Rock-a-Shake Group comprising The Fat One (Colin Manley), T.O.I.E.G. (Tony Ashton), Griper (Roy Dyke), Durran (Phil Rogers). Black Bob The Faithful Half-breed Servant (Road manager Jens) Man Mountain The Prince's Helping Help (Mal Lift-Evans)
The Story Begins Here:
The first day commencing as the intrepid four arrive at the car park to be confronted by a strangely daubed minute car with the blind eye of Katmanure gazing at them from every door. Then followed the meeting with M.W.P. himself of when it has oft been said, "That's enough." Greetings and formicas having been exchanged the Eager Four set about their task. The Artful Repertoire man entered phasing gently "Grove or be not grooeved." A solemn warning.
"Eat no meat" cried the Fastidious Prince.
"No pigs feet" chanted the Hungry Four.
Gazing around the large room, the young lads could fee and seast their eyes on the vast array of almost every world of the instrument--sinister black boxes with many long black cables stretching out like a spaniel's ear in Greece. Crowning all Angora's Box containing a thousand men, an instrument--nay a musical factotum--of which Rommel said "off with his head."
The fat one and Toieg played their peace, nodded the wise princes head. "Okay" said he, the signal for the commencement of the days toil and the Industrious Four fled to their instruments.
The Red Light!!
Panic spread suddenly through the shaken four and valuable time was spent for the fat one's fast fingers had forried an elbow knot around his plant. "Not a very good one" said the Bouncing Prince wading through the cigarette ends. "Let's try again." Toieg gazing down at his palm and as luck would have it all turned out in the white strip.
The arabic lettering on the crash ride sizzled out and the Merry Four played their kidneys out.
The Man Mountain burst in with refreshments, tripped but did not fall. "Tea up, but never down," quoth he. "Don't be gruel" quipped Oliver Wrist.
During the day several friends of the Prince hopped in to play their respects. "Cheap at half the price, but hello there!" cried the Friendly Lad.
A stickler for detail and perfection and object of no money, the Wily One sent Man Mountain to the tower for the Doomsday Book and rippling the pages produced percussion the like of which would have chilled the soul of Hyperions Kite. "Marvellous", marvelled the Dumbfounded Four.
"Play it back", wept the anxious four, but they must be careful what they say, for they can hear it all in there you know. A burrp from? at once recorded and played backwards produced gasps of astonishment from the awestruck four--so that's how it's done. Singing through four yards of barbed wire, happy in the thought of the dubbin to be applied,
"Plug in, tune up, hit out."
The end of the first day, high lighted by axing and rifling of the hot cigarette machine downstairs.
The second day came to the Tireless prince and listening to the work of the previous day outlined new ideas confounding the Tiresome Four.
"Put the drums and bass on one track, and the whippet and bear on the other, we shall add foam-backing later". This proving that a snitchy rhyme saves grime.
Man Mountain dribbling a jows harp yet another dynamic effect. "It's 19 shillings for a hot chop downstairs" cried the entering Fat One.
"That's Shere Khan."
To carry on would be to bore. In short, a grand time had by all. And the Thankful Four bade fond farewell to the Prince, to be met by many of his fans outside asking them what it was like to live next dour to a?...
Somebody wrote, quite recently, that a certain new girl singer didn't stand much chance of finding disc success because she'd never even met a Beatle! A bit on the sarcastic side, perhaps, but there's a tremendous list of pop successes which can be put down to some form of Beatle influence--a Lennon-McCartney song, a recommendation from Ringo, a suggestion from George.
Go back to March, 1966, two years ago, and there was the case of a chart-entry group who claimed that they made the breakthrough simply because Paul McCartney fancied a ciggie and didn't have his lighter with him! And that's dead serious. Group concerned, a duo actually, was the Truth. Steve Gold and Frank Aiello had made two records, but with little success.
So they went up to Dick James' offices and the Beatle publisher was talking generally to them about which Beatle songs might give them a third-time-lucky success. The one he fancied most was "Girl". The two boys talked it over--were slightly worried about the fact that they might be described as "jumping on the Beatle band-wagon". In an outer office sat their manager, Jeff Cooper. He, too, was thinking about which songs, by a variety of composers, would best suit the boys.
And in walked Paul McCartney. He fumbled in his pockets. Then he strolled over and asked Jeff, a stranger to him, if he had a light. Jeff obliged happily.
He was sure this was an omen. "We'll do the Beatle song. 'Girl' it is", he said. They did it. And it went straight into the charts. Just sheer coincidence? The Truth didn't think so. But this little yarn illustrates the importance placed on ANYTHING to do with the Beatles. . . .
Around this rather chilly month of March, it was announced that 1966 would see the Beatles touring America, Germany and Japan. Brian Epstein was off to America to fix up details for the boys' biggest-yet-money-spinning trek round the States. And George told us: "The difference between now and a few years back is that we can look right ahead over a whole year and know just where we're going to be in any given month, or week even. It makes life much easier. Most of us now have family scenes going and it's nice to be able to make long-range plans with the wife."
Oh yes, March 1966 was "Beatles At Shea Stadium" time on television. We've dealt fully with this programme in past issues of this incredibly exciting show, in front of 56,000 people, doesn't come amiss, we hope. Almost a documentary, completely entertaining. . . lots of Beatle work in a 50-minute show which also featured dancers, Brenda Holloway and the Sounds Incorporated outfit from Britain.
Quiet Month
We spent a lot of time with John Lennon during this "quietish" month of March. He explained that it was quiet because the newly-wed George was entitled to as long as he wanted for the honeymoon. "But people keep throwing this retirement thing at us. There has to be a limit to what we take on, obviously, and there's no need to go mad rushing around the country. Recording is the problem. As the years go by, Paul and I take longer actually getting down to writing material for albums and singles. Right now we've got to get a new LP finished. So what happens? George comes rushing back from his holiday with Patti and discovers that we've got very little actually done. 'Rubber Soul' seems like only yesterday, but it was a long time ago.
"George Martin wants us to get on with it. But we find that it definitely takes longer now. There's been talk about me doing a record just reading aloud some of my poems but again I don't want to start pushing things. I think I'm more the type to sit back and hope that nice things will happen to me, rather than go out rooting for new things to do. Maybe it's wrong. Not so long ago I'd be like a long-distance runner, go anywhere, if it was likely to really help the group."
Eighth Gold Disc
John might have felt he was slowing down, but the quality was higher thane ver in his writing. "Nowhere Man" was in the process of passing the million mark in the States, earning the Beatles their eighth Gold Disc for sales in America alone. Actually this was their fifth consecutive single to pass the Magic Million Mark and nobody had ever come within a mile of that sort of consistency before. No, not even E. Presley.
Tying in with the "Shea Stadium" show, the boys decided to give everyone of their fan-club members, a souvenir of the production. So they sent out a booklet of colour pictures taken from the show (remember there was no colour television here at that time) and also a replica of a front-row ticket for the performance. It may sound a fairly simple process, just addressing the envelopes and posting the souvenirs . . . but with a fan-club as big as the Beatles it was a massive operation. Another example, though, of how the Beatles liked to come up with little off-the-cuff surprises for their faithful followers. Which means YOU!
We wonder how many of you actually remember a hit record called "Woman". Well, this was by Peter and Gordon and it chased pretty high up the charts just a couple of years ago. The composer according to the label information was one Bernard Webb, and nobody in the business seemed to know who he was. Journalists started digging deep and came up with the astonishing information that it was actually . . . Paul McCartney!
It all started because of a McCartney whim. He wanted to see if one of his songs, performed without a Beatle name attached to it, could make the grade. He'd been long friendly with Peter and Gordon, for obvious reasons, and he offered them the song at exactly the moment they wanted a follow-up single . . . having already made the charts with a fully-credited Beatle song.
Good Song
Of course it was a hit simply because it was a darned good song anyway. Peter and Gordon, who have recently split up to go their separate ways, found it a terrible trial trying to keep the secret of Bernard Webb . . . and from their point of view it led to a lot of criticism. Didn't help when they kept pointing out that the secrecy was purely and simply for Paul's sake. . . .
Mind you, then as now, there were always people trying to stir up controversy about anything connected even remotely with the Beatles. The line taken over Peter and Gordon was that THEY were responsible for hiding Paul's name away--simply because they resented criticism that they were getting to the top on the shoulders of the Beatles . . . especially seeing as how Paul's girl Jane was the brother of Peter. Some artists thought the duo were getting too much advantage; some fans were resentful at not having been told the truth in the first place.
They knew that some of the more bitter critics felt that the Beatles couldn't possibly maintain their standards much longer. "What is there left for the boys to do now?"--that was the main question. And our reply, then as now, is simply this: "There is a LOT left to do if the boys feel sufficiently strongly about doing various things. But if they ONLY go on producing incredible records and writing incredible songs, surely that's enough".
The knockers said it wasn't enough. But again, the fans remained patient during a rather inactive spell. They KNEW their heroes would come up with something that would stop all criticism.
And of course they DID. Read on, same space, next month. . . .
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