Well, if you have come this far into the website, you probably know that Cry For A Shadow is the one and only Harrison/Lennon composition, which was recorded in June of 1961 when the Beatles were in Hamburg for the second time, during the recording sessions with Tony Sheridan. George Martin is recorded as saying that it is also the only instrumental that The Beatles ever recorded. I would venture to say that that is not true. If an instrumental is defined as instruments only, then this is not one of them - you can hear Paul (most likely) whooping and hollering in the background. However, if you one was to say that it is still an instrumental because there are no words, then again, this is not the only one. Flying, which appears on “Magical Mystery Tour” is an instrumental with the definition being a song without words, although The Beatles do back up the instruments with some “da da dum’s.” But that isn’t what I would like to purge today.
I was listening to There’s A Place on “Please Please Me” on my way home the other night. It’s a song I have heard hundreds (no kidding) of times. But on this night, it took on a completely different meaning. I was singing along, listening to the harmonies, the song structure, the instruments as I was repeating the lyrics I’ve known for years. I began to imagine this person saying these lyrics to himself, rather than singing them in a song . . . There’s a place where I can go when I feel low (when I feel blue). And it’s my mind and there’s no time when I’m alone. I always took this as more of an introverted, negative person, someone who wants to hide away and be alone. But that’s not it. This person finds his solace and peace in his head during his alone time. Many people have a bad day, have negative thoughts and then go home at night and stew about how wrong the world is. But this person does the opposite. His mind is where the world is perfect. I also thought that there’s no time was a bad thing. Usually when you’re out of time, you’re in trouble. But when this guy is in his mind, it’s not that he’s out of time -- there is no time. How great would that be? To be in a happy place and there is no time to run out. In my mind there’s no sorrow. Don’t you know that it’s so. There’ll be no sad tomorrow. Don’t you know that it’s so. The sorrow is in the world, on the outside; not in his mind, on the inside. Isn’t that simple? Don’t you know that it’s so? And, if there’s no time, there’ll be no tomorrow, much less a sad one. So this song that I always took as a sad song is actually the way that everyone should live! If you can’t be happy on your own, with yourself, then how can you be happy in the world with others?
This got me asking myself, why did it take me so long to realize this? Well, it’s probably because I was listening more to the music than the lyrics. Lyrics can be deceiving sometimes - especially if the words have been manipulated to fit a musical phrase or rhyme. How many songs’ meanings have completely been changed from the time the writer first conceived the idea to the time it’s finished? Then throw in a songwriting partnership, a pop formula, a time constraint, music charts, the recording restraints. All of these things overshadow the original meaning, which sometimes can shine through (you just have to hear the same thing hundreds of times). The truth has always been there, it’s just covered with layers. Just as much as lyrics can be deceiving, so can the music.
If you ever have the immense pleasure to listen to Andre Gardner’s weekly radio tribute, Breakfast with The Beatles, you will hear things that you would never hear unless you were a collector. My favorite recordings to hear are always the demos. The song in its most pure and premature form. I’ve had many insights into things I’ve wondered about songs and the writers that have been answered by just hearing John and his guitar, for example. One morning I was listening to Andre Gardner - I love that guy - and he played a demo (not even a demo, it was Mal Evans holding a cheap little tape recorder for John, when in the spur of the moment, John just decided to lay his new song down) If I Fell. First of all, I’ve got to say that I think that this is one of the most beautiful songs (in every way) that has ever been created. I’ve felt that way since the time I first heard it; it gives me chills, makes me cry, the whole shebang. I remember, actually, one evening a few years ago, lying on my living room floor listening to If I Fell over and over again, reveling in all its musical glory. My sister’s boyfriend (they’re about three years older than me, but my generation) walked through the living room and asked me what I was doing. I rewound the tape again so he could hear the song. I told him: Listen to this song, it’s so amazingly beautiful (and I thought he, who was an amateur DJ, would appreciate it on some level). But he said, to my surprise: Why do you listen to this stuff? You’re young and cute - what are you listening to our parents’ music for? I replied: What does time or generation or cuteness have to do with anything? This is beautiful music with style, form, technique, sound - and in my opinion with more passion and originality than any other music, especially “my generation’s” - is what brings me more joy and emotion than anything else; and I listen to it for myself, not anybody else. But I digress. So I heard this very primitive, scratchy, spur-of-the-moment recording of just John on his acoustic guitar singing his newly formed song, If I Fell. It was absolutely fantastic! The meaning, the mood, the underlying feel, was all different because there were no harmonies, no beat (which I actually think they successfully kept to a minimum anyway), and no other influence than just John. The original feel and meaning, I think, is lost many times, especially in Beatles’ songs, because it is overshadowed by their powerful musical abilities. As soon as another guitar is added, another voice, a quicker and more prominent beat, the song changes.
Take the song Please Please Me, for example, where at John’s first conception heard it in his head more like a Roy Orbison song - pleading and ballad-like, but was changed because they were trying to come up with their first #1 - and keep it original (which was almost unheard of at the time). Or Tomorrow Never Knows with random sounds instead of the sound of monks Om-ing and meditating, as originally intended, due to the incapability of reproducing that sound and the urge to experiment with tape loops. The Beatles give us a public example of this same concept when John wrote Revolution again on his acoustic guitar, but it was changed to a fast rock n’ roll song, mostly because it wouldn’t hold up as a single as the slow version. It completely changes the mood of the song from a passive antiwar message through self-awareness to an aggressive statement that the institution is wrong (and possibly needed to be reckoned with).
I always had these thoughts of how the music strongly influences, if not changes, the song’s intended message. But when I was reading The Gospel According To The Beatles by Steve Turner, the author was describing an interview he had with John in 1971. He describes how when he asked John about Yoko’s influence on the more personal approach to John’s latest songs like Mother and Isolation, John pointed out that his songs were always personal - Help, In My Life, I’m A Loser. Steve Turner said that he had never seen those songs as personal because they were Beatles songs. John pointed out that that is exactly why he stopped. His personal songs were overshadowed by the “Beatle” sound - the upbeat, mop-top style could not hold and/or transmit the message John was trying to convey or the emotions he was trying to show. Help is a classic example of this very point: a plea for help by a confused young adult overshadowed by a catchy beat (enhanced by a funny movie). Further, can you imagine Cold Turkey being harmonized by Paul? (That song was about John’s struggle with coming off his Heroine addiction and was brought to The Beatles, and promptly rejected.) John’s music was no longer reflecting John because it was overshadowed by his image as a Beatle. It all comes down to the man versus the message, but that’s how you get crucified.
