Music Review: The Beatles are Still Here, There, and Everywhere
By Ed Symkus
Beatles fans are being treated to a three-fer of projects spanning three media genres: a restoration of the film Let It Be, a book focusing on the two 1967 songs “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny Lane,” and an appearance on the new season of Doctor Who.
The Beatles just won’t go away. And I’ve got no problem with that. Sure, “Now and Then,” the “final song” from them, released last fall, was a bit disappointing — many critics referred to it as “tepid” (Arts Fuse review) — but just look around, round, round at what’s currently or soon-to-be going on in Beatles World.
Paul McCartney Photographs 1963–64: Eyes of the Storm recently opened at the Brooklyn Museum; Ringo Starr and His All Starr Band are doing a North American tour at the end of May; John Lennon’s Mind Games: The Ultimate Collection (72 tracks, 6 CDs, 2 Blu-rays) will be released in July; Seth Rogovoy’s Within You Without You: Listening to George Harrison is coming in October.
Right now, though, Beatles fans are being treated to a three-fer of projects spanning three media genres: a restoration of the film Let It Be, a book focusing on the two 1967 songs “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny Lane,” and an appearance on the new season of Doctor Who.
The much-disparaged 81-minute documentary Let It Be directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg, was released in theaters on May 13, 1970, with three strikes against it. It had been shot on 16mm film and blown up to 35mm, resulting in dark, murky visuals. The sound mix was, let’s charitably say, below par as far as aural quality. And the band had officially announced their breakup just a month earlier, casting a dreary pall over the film, stirring up very little interest among heartbroken fans. It was a box office flop that eventually had a short-lived video release It never appeared on DVD.
Enter New Zealand director Peter Jackson, who had been tinkering with a revolutionary approach to film restoration with his documentary They Shall Not Grow Old. He managed to gain access to the 50-plus hours of footage that had been shot for Let It Be. The result, a few years later, was the visually vibrant, sonically sparkling, almost 8-hour mini-series The Beatles: Get Back, an overwhelmingly positive film that surmounted the perceived negativity of Let It Be. (Arts Fuse review)
Now, Jackson has done it again, completely restoring the original film, leaving it at its relatively brief running time, and giving fans a crisp, clean and, for the most part, upbeat look at what went into the creation of the Beatles’ penultimate album (Abbey Road was recorded after Let It Be.).
We get the group, huddled in the studio, learning newly written material, playing snatches of “Don’t Let Me Down,” “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” (featuring roadie Mal Evans on hammer and anvil), going through the development of “I’ve Got a Feeling,” under the direction of McCartney, digging back into some of their “oldies,” including “One After 909,” and blowing off some steam by running through covers they played in their Hamburg days, including “Kansas City” and “Shake, Rattle & Roll.”
People who have seen it before will uncomfortably revisit the quiet altercation between control freak Paul and meek George, and may smile at the scene of George helping Ringo put together “Octopus’s Garden.” My favorite part remains the joyous bit with Paul and Ringo — “Good morning, Paul!” Good morning, Rich!” — as they bang out a boogie-woogie duo at a piano.
The film culminates with their legendary rooftop concert, playing music that no one had heard before, not as head-shaking mop-tops, but as four pros, presenting sophisticated, complex pop music, and having a ball. It’s pure magic. (Available on Disney+)
Veteran music journalist Jonathan Cott’s book Let Me Take You Down: Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever (University of Minnesota Press) starts off with an appealing premise — a detailed look at the creation of and, via the insightful thoughts of the author, along with a quintet of notable folks he spoke with, the meanings of the two songs the Beatles released as a “Double A-side” single on February 13, 1967. Unfortunately, somewhere on the long and winding road of this slight volume (153 pages), Cott took a wrong turn.
The introduction and opening section, titled “A Hard Day’s Nights: June – December, 1966,” are quite good, chronicling the rough times of exhaustive touring (including the horrors of the band’s stop in the Philippines where they “snubbed” Imelda Marcos), the world-wide controversy generated by Lennon’s “we’re more popular than Jesus now” quip, and the pointlessness of playing for crowds who were doing more screaming than listening. But there was also good news, especially surrounding the positive reviews of their innovative album Revolver, released in August.
Drawing on reference sources ranging from the books Revolution in the Head to The Beatles: The Authorized Biography, as well as the magazines “Hit Parader” and “Newsweek,” Cott examines the seeds of Lennon’s “Strawberry Fields” (originally titled “It’s Not Too Bad”) and how it was recorded in 26 takes over 45 hours during a four-week period. He brings up the old chestnut about what Lennon says during the song’s fadeout — either “I buried Paul” or “cranberry sauce.” Regarding his focus on the recording of McCartney’s “Penny Lane,” I most enjoyed Cott’s section on how David Mason’s renowned piccolo trumpet solo came to be.
But the lion’s share of the book is made up of conversations Cott had with five disparate people — all of them fans of the two songs — who wax, not all that poetically, on how they’ve been affected by the tunes and what the lyrics might mean. Some of the author’s choices make sense, others are … puzzling. Some interviewees offer perceptive comments, others (including Cott at times) just blather on and on.
Jazz guitarist Bill Frisell says he was initially “struck by the psychedelic sonic quality of both of the songs and by the texturally extraordinary orchestration,” and that even now, when you go back to them, “there’s always something else to uncover, still more to discover in them.” The Frisell segment is one of the more enjoyable ones.
Then Cott chats with urban planner Jonathan F. P. Rose. Although Rose is on the mark about the “blatant nostalgia” of “Penny Lane” and rightly says of “Strawberry Fields” that, musically, it’s complex and deep. According to him, it mirrors Lennon’s “uncertainty about life.”But then Rose and Cott begin delving into socio-political tangents and indulging in esoteric, philosophical discussions that have nothing to do with the songs or the Beatles.
Things get more mired in the needlessly speculative when Cott sits down with Jungian analyst Margaret Klenck, who insists that “Strawberry Fields” is about Lennon’s depression, before steering the interview into realms of psychoanalytical gobbledygook.
Some time spent with actor-musician-philosopher-Buddhist Richard Gere results in “Strawberry Fields”-related quotes such as, “John talks about living with ‘eyes closed,’ but the awakened panoramic aspect of mind is innate to that pure level of awareness.” To that, I say, “What?”
Gere goes on to impart, “Because the self is empty of inherent existence, it can come into existence, it can continually change, which it does, and then it can go away.” My response: “Huh?”
Things get better once Cott turns to singer-songwriter-painter-filmmaker Laurie Anderson. She divulges that “in ‘Strawberry Fields,’ it’s almost impossible to understand what [Lennon’s] words supposedly mean, and that’s what I think the song is about, as well — the meaninglessness of words.” Although later she says, “Maybe ‘Strawberry Fields’ is a song about confusion.” The interview takes an amusing turn when Cott introduces a startled Anderson to the subtle smuttiness found in some of “Penny Lane’s” lyrics, which helps make hers the most entertaining of the five chats. Alas, this is really only a book for Beatles completists.
The new season of Doctor Who kicks off on May 10 with an episode titled “Space Babies,” starring the Rwandan actor Ncuti Gatwa as the new incarnation of the Doctor, and Millie Gibson as his companion Ruby Sunday. It’s the second episode, though, airing one week later, titled “The Devil’s Chord” that’s going to attract the Beatles crowd.
But – and this is important – even though advance word has been that it involves the Doctor going back to 1963 London, where he meets the Beatles, the story is NOT ABOUT THE BEATLES.
Oh, they’re in it, portrayed by four fellows who don’t look much like them – George Caple (Paul), Chris Mason (John), Philip Davies (George), and James Hoyles (Ringo) – although Ed White, as George Martin, looks very much like George Martin. And they do perform a couple of songs … just not Beatles songs. And their presence is integral to the story.
But, again, it’s not about them; it’s rather about the love of and power of music.
The plot concerns what it would be like for Beatles fans — at least the Doctor and Ruby — if Lennon and McCartney hadn’t written their songs. The concept is reminiscent of Danny Boyle’s film Yesterday. But the narrative goes much further and gets much darker when it explores what might happen to the world if there was no music at all, like the events in “Yellow Submarine.”
There’s no need to reveal any more of the story here. But I’ll toss in two tidbits. There’s a great cameo by a Gibson J-160E acoustic guitar, which Lennon used on early recordings. And this isn’t the first time the Liverpool lads appeared on Doctor Who. In the show’s second season — in 1965 — they’re seen (the actual Beatles) on the Doctor’s “Space-Time Visualizer” performing “Ticket to Ride” from their appearance on Top of the Pops. (Available on Disney+)
Ed Symkus is a Boston native and Emerson College graduate. He went to Woodstock, interviewed Bob Denver, Eartha Kitt, Mort Sahl, and Roger McGuinn, and has visited Nantucket, the Outer Hebrides, the Lofoten Islands, Anglesey, Mykonos, the Azores, Catalina, Kangaroo Island, Capri, and the Isle of Wight with his wife Lisa.