This should've been called A Cultural History of Classical Music because that's all Goodall seems to care to talk about. In the final few chapters, heThis should've been called A Cultural History of Classical Music because that's all Goodall seems to care to talk about. In the final few chapters, he'll occasionally make a halfhearted digression to discuss, say, the rise of jazz, the advent of rock n' roll, or how sad it is that hip-hop is associated with delinquency, but then he'll all too eagerly jump back into his discourse about the place of classical music in the modern age, when its relevancy is restricted to select elite circles, and the public only seems to enjoy the masterworks of the past, performed in perpetual iterations, with the negative effect of propagating the uncultured opinion that this genre is stuffy and outdated.
And for the record, Mr. Goodall, there is no banjo or ukulele on the Beatles' "Honey Pie".
Clearly Goodall cares deeply for classical music, this Western art music, and I think he should've been honest to himself and his passion, (as well as his career: Goodall is a prolific and passionate composer of "musicals, choral music and music for television" according to Wikipedia) and dedicated his book solely to that, rather than attempting to rope other genres into the mix. This unsavoury lumping together of half-baked ideas results in an uneven volume that doesn't satisfy anyone in the audience. Goodall would rather wax lyrical about how Shostakovich dedicated his masterwork not to his nation's corrupt leader, but to the good citizens within it, rather than give even a brief history of any other genre highly relevant to humanity. The book's subtitle namechecks the Beatles, but the Fab Four are only mentioned in passing, to give them a quick pat on the back for incorporating obscure instruments and musical forms into their songs. So I would warn against potential readers looking forward to Goodall singing their praises the same way he sings Bach's, or Haydn's, or Beethoven's, or Mozart's.
Realistically, what is to be expected from less than 400 pages? It is far too audacious to try and give an anthropological sketch of the physical development of instruments, globally, from pre-history to now, as well as document the gestations of every genre in every tradition, Western and beyond, and explain just "how music works", dabbling in physics, and explain all the social and political movements that tie into musical revolutions. All the wars and the persecutions and the invention of the teenager and how these are all interconnected with the global and eternal musical landscape? It's all too much. Goodall clearly bit off more than he could chew, and throughout the pages he is choking and spluttering.
There is nothing wrong with what Goodall has written, but I wish it was packaged differently so as to not mislead the reader. Also, I might note that the prose was rather bland and I thus have no spiffing quotes to leave here for the enjoyment of whoever is reading this review. Of course he is passionate, but he doesn't seem to take anything too seriously-- not in a good way!-- and nothing comes across as too academic, when sometimes a bit of shrewd insight or mentally stimulating postulations would be appreciated.
Finally, I want to express my expected dismay at Goodall calling music theory and its terminology "misleading", "ill-conceived", "unhelpful" and "tired". To study music theory, and apply it to compositions, is to understand how music works, which will only lead to a greater appreciation and fascination for the whole system, its parts, and how they come together. A song, with its interplay of harmony, melody, and other key elements, produces a divine synergy that's only too tangible and masterable....more
Through studying the Beatles I have come to learn about and appreciate all the genres that influenced them. Two uniquely British ones, that I probablyThrough studying the Beatles I have come to learn about and appreciate all the genres that influenced them. Two uniquely British ones, that I probably would never have heard of otherwise, are music hall and skiffle. Music hall is evoked by, and made relevant to the Beatles, through the likes of: Joe "Mr. Piano" Henderson, Mrs. Mills, Al Jolson, and whoever they heard sing "My Old Dutch". These are just a few examples of many. Paul was probably the most inspired out of all of them by the genre, with songs like "When I'm Sixty-Four", "Honey Pie", and "Your Mother Should Know" paying loving homage. However, the singalong scene on the bus near the end of the Magical Mystery Tour film shows how the four of them were happy to indulge, singing numbers like "The Happy Wanderer", "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts", and "Toot, Toot, Tootsie" at the top of their lungs, with not a care in the world. Watching them makes one yearn for a nice road trip singalong, where one can earnestly belt out "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" with friends. A song both Mrs. Mills and Joe Henderson would chop out on the piano was "Moonlight Bay". The Beatles gave a marvellously harmonized performance of this song with Morecambe and Wise on Two of a Kind, alongside their more relevant hits of the day, songs like "This Boy" and "I Want to Hold Your Hand".
Well, let's not get sidetracked. The latter genre was skiffle, and after duly looking into it to educate myself on the Beatles' upbringing, I happened to fall in love with it, and listen to more than necessary. I listened to Lonnie's discography and all the Just About As Good As It Gets! volumes of "Great British Skiffle". The Wikipedia page for the genre is scant, but thoroughly intriguing. I can't get enough of the tea chest (or tub) bass and washboard as musical instruments. It's too perfect. Then I saw a photo of the young boys who'd define disco in the 70's as the Bee Gees, but here they weren't even teens yet, and they were strumming toy guitars in their skiffle band in the 50's, and it was too perfect to not delve further into the genre and its history.
I'm very glad I did, because I got to learn that skiffle evolved out of trad jazz. The banjo and/or guitars of trad bands were brought to the forefront, and the wind instruments fell behind. This is perfectly represented by Lonnie Donegan going from being the banjo player in Chris Barber's Jazz Band, to becoming his own highly successful solo act, a household name, and inspiration, chiefly through the success of his cover of "Rock Island Line", to countless bands of the rock age, the Beatles being just one of the famous examples.
Bragg takes us way back, and I find myself adding very scratchy recordings from over a hundred years ago to my iTunes library, stuff by the Original Dixieland Jass Band and the like. Bragg brings us to appreciate the lesser-known Ken Colyer as much as the figurehead Lonnie Donegan, and after listening to tapes of Colyer's band, I have come to discover that British jazz is where it's at. This is a terrific genre that's given me hours of amusement. Bragg mentions so many songs and albums and artists, and they're all worth a listen. For example, Chris Barber's Jazz Band's version of "Petite Fleur". Awesome stuff!
I will make a diversion here to mention my one real gripe with this book. Bragg doesn't seem to give Elizabeth Cotten her due. Her life was a remarkable one in that she overcame such adversity to make so many strong, affecting recordings, and invent a new style of picking (just like we have Travis picking and etcetera, there is also Cotten picking) along the way. The way she is portrayed here doesn't seem very justified:
Peggy Seeger was the nineteen-year-old banjo-playing daughter of Charles Seeger, a pioneering ethno-musicologist and song collector, and Ruth Crawford, a composer and folklorist. Both had worked with Lomax and his father, John, at the Library of Congress in the 1930s. Peggy had grown up surrounded by folk music. Her parents’ house in Chevy Chase was always full of musicians – her half-brother Pete would come by and play banjo for her and her brother Mike when they were children; Lead Belly was a frequent visitor, as was Woody Guthrie; even the housemaid, Elizabeth Cotten, was a folk artist of considerable talent.
It's as if Bragg isn't quite sure how to present her. It comes across terribly vague and unsure. "Considerable talent".
later on:
However, one of the stand-out songs in her repertoire hadn’t come from the anthologies compiled by her musicologist parents, nor from the library at Harvard. Seeger had learned ‘Freight Train’ from an African American woman who was housemaid at her family’s Washington, DC residence. Born in North Carolina in 1895, Elizabeth Cotten was hired by the Seegers in 1945, after she found Peggy wandering alone in Woodward and Lothrop, Washington’s largest department store, and returned her to her mother. ‘Libba would have come probably when I was ten,’ recalls Seeger, ‘but it wasn’t until I was about fourteen that I came into the kitchen and found her playing the guitar that always hung on the wall. Up until then, whenever you came in the kitchen she was ironing or she was cooking or she was putting dishes away or whatever.’ Cotten had played since childhood, initially mastering the banjo and then moving on to the guitar. Being left-handed, she developed her own distinctive picking style to allow her to play guitars strung for right-handed people. However, she had ceased playing after joining the church in the early 1920s. Working in a house full of musicians had encouraged her to pick up the instrument again, and she began entertaining the Seeger children with songs she’d played as a child, among them one she’d composed herself, ‘Freight Train’. With its mournful lyrics concerning the killing of a friend, a hanging and a burial, it must have sounded like a classic American murder ballad when Peggy Seeger played it in the coffee bars and skiffle clubs of Soho. And in the febrile atmosphere that followed Lonnie Donegan’s runaway success with what everyone assumed to be a traditional railroad song, it was only a matter of time before someone exploited Seeger’s repertoire.
Here her standing is rectified a bit, but she still falls in the shadow of the more famous Seegers. Oh well. Whoever is reading this, go listen to "Shake Sugaree" and tell me it isn't incredibly moving. It is sung by her 10 year old daughter. Cotten and her influential, dextrous playing, is not to be overlooked. It is my opinion that she deserved a bit more credit and praise in this book. So, “Shake Sugaree” made my eyes well up and spill over with tears within seconds. So did the Fisk Jubilee Singers singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. Anything genuine like that, where the pain and emotion really comes through the melody and lyrics, which are often plain and simple. You can hear the oppression and strife. Even in something relatively jubilant, like Sister Rosetta Tharpe's "Strange Things Are Happening Everyday". Now, back to me gushing about the Beatles.
Very groovy to have Tony Sheridan’s career detailed, as well as Royston Ellis’, two people with strong Beatles connections. Hell, even Bert Kaempfert gets his moment in the sun. Simply thrilling. The contextualization of these events would make Mark Lewisohn (whom Bragg namechecks, citing his authority on all things Beatles) proud. Bragg, demonstrating how he can write with a bit of cheeky suspense, the way most encyclopedias and textbooks could never, often will lay out an otherwise unremarkable scene or happening, before informing us at the end, by revealing the names of the people involved, that we just witnessed a pivotal moment in music history. Moments that signal the birth of a band or genre. Of course we have the iconic meeting of John and Paul, but there are also the infamous residents of Gambier Terrace hanging out with Royston the beat poet. "England's answer to Allen Ginsberg" as Lennon put it. Incidentally, despite publishing this book 4 years after Tune In was released, Bragg makes a slight error when asserting Ellis gave the Beatles their name. As Lewisohn writes in the notes of Tune In:
Royston Ellis claims he came up with, or somehow confirmed, the name Beatles for them, but this isn’t right. They were using it, and it had appeared in print, a month before they met him. If he told them “Beatles” was a good spelling and worth sticking with, he was right—it was, and they were going to. In a published letter Ellis wrote about them within three weeks of his Liverpool trip, the word was spelled “Beetles.”
Of course, this is just my obsessive quibbling and doesn't trouble Bragg's credibility.
To wrap this up, I will say that I came for the Beatles, but stayed for such an enjoyable, eye-opening, enriching ride through the history of the American folk revival, blues, ragtime, jazz, Teddy Boys, Angry Young Men, Beatniks, rock n' roll, trad, Ken Colyer (his exploits are not to be missed), with stops along the way to give detailed descriptions of coffee trades and wartime rationing, hair styles and guitar productions, Young Communist Leagues and Nuclear Disarmament, refugees and immigrants, prisoners and plantations, with so many social upheavals and musical revolutions. I encourage everyone to just drink it all in. Bragg highly recommends The Restless Generation to learn more about the rock n' roll generation, and how they, too, changed the world, along with skiffle. God bless....more
This is a fine account of the Beatles' 1969 exploits, with a chapter dedicated to each month. As such we get a very detailed account of the year, and This is a fine account of the Beatles' 1969 exploits, with a chapter dedicated to each month. As such we get a very detailed account of the year, and how it set up the sadness and further despair and inexorable doom of the band in 1970 and beyond. I won't bother to give a book report type of summary of what I've learned, as the tale of the Beatles' breakup has been recounted many times over the years, by more eloquent and learned and suitable minds than mine. In fact there is a concise Wikipedia page on the matter, for your viewing pleasure, right here. Wikipedia has many very specific articles on a wide range of Beatles minutiae. Topics include "Lennon-McCartney" (an analysis of their songwriting partnership), "Religious Views of the Beatles", "Cultural Impact of the Beatles", and many more. Strangely, I've found, there is no page on "Beatles Studies", which I expected would exist, after uncovering Madonna Studies. That is a bit odd, considering you can now get a master's degree in the subject of the band. But I digress.
So, rather than summarize the book, I will select a few passages that I found to be questionable, funny, or worthy of note in some regard. I will call out a few things and compliment some other things. In terms of the book's informational content, most of the material is rehashed, which is totally fair and expected, but to McNab's credit, there are a few new kernels which I, at least, have not heard before. These are worthy of mention and I will outline a couple below:
Wholesome reminiscing by Dr. David Milne of Lawson Memorial Hospital:
The author interviewed this pleasant, humble country clinic doctor, and got him to share some nice memories of John, Yoko, and their children's time in his care in 1969 following their Scotland car crash. I appreciated this unique, in-depth account into the particular occasion.
the second kernel:
Country duo Delaney and Bonnie claim to have given George the idea for "My Sweet Lord", and, critically, consciously using "He's So Fine" as melodic inspiration:
I'm not making this up:
In an interview with Harrison biographer Marc Shapiro, Bramlett alleged: ‘George came up to me one night after a show on that tour and said, “You write a lot of gospel songs and I’d like to know what inspires you to do that.” And so I gave him my explanation. I told him that I get things from the Bible, from what a preacher may say or just the feelings I felt toward God. George said, “Well, can you give me a for instance?” He wanted to know how I would start.
‘So I grabbed my guitar and started playing The Chiffons’ melody from “She’s So Fine” and then sang the words, ‘My Sweet Lord/Oh My Lord/I just wanna be with you’. George said, “Okay.” Then I said, “Then you praise the Lord in your own way”.
‘As it happened, Rita Coolidge, who was on the tour, and my wife at the time – Bonnie – were sitting there and so I told them that when we got to this one part, they should sing ‘Hallelujah’.They did. We ran down the example a few times. George seemed satisfied. He said okay and that was the end of it.’
Except, of course, it wasn’t. Whatever the truth of the matter, it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that Harrison would find himself accused of stealing biscuits from another musician’s cookie jar.
If this allegation is true, it means that George was lying when he said he came up with the song all on his own, and, most saucily, that "He's So Fine" didn't inspire the melody and rhythm.
Besides those two kernels of new (to me) information, I also enjoyed McNab including some contemporaneous commentary on the band's doings and records. Quotes from witnesses, and also the remarks of journalists and newspapers. The reviews are quite interesting. Here are two examples:
The Beatles Monthly magazine publisher, Sean O'Mahoney, and his priceless chastising of the Beatles' slipping image:
McNab explains how the magazine was "entrenched in the past" and presented its subscribers with the band's erstwhile moptop image, even when it clashed with reality. Much like how the Beatles themselves, in 1966, didn't play any songs more recent and elaborate than "Nowhere Man", because they didn't have the technical capabilities onstage, and so their sets were incongruous with their musical development.
O'Mahoney's complaining:
The real reason why The Beatles Monthly is stopping publication is because it was The Beatles’ publication of the Sixties while The Beatles were in their twenties. Now, as The Beatles approach their thirties, I feel – and I believe they do too – that we can’t do the job in the Seventies. This is the real crux of the matter.
‘The magazine was first published to keep the fans informed about the activities of The Beatles because John, Paul, George and Ringo were very happy to accept the one identity. I don’t think this is true anymore. Two of The Beatles have made quite a number of statements about their future intentions. Indeed, if one took them literally, one can only assume that they are rejecting The Beatles’ ‘image these days.’
‘I can’t close The Beatles book without mentioning the drug problem. On several occasions, The Beatles have made it very plain that they have experimented with drugs. Many of their close associates have said that they consider mild drugs like pot are okay. I had always hoped that The Beatles would have come out with a straight-forward condemnation of drugs. Although I’m sure at least one will, eventually, personally I believe that to experiment with drugs is utterly stupid. To accept the theory that your own mind is not good enough without taking extra, dangerous chemicals to alter its natural processes seems to display a certain lack of self-respect. The pro-pot brigade will say that pot is no worse than alcohol or smoking and it doesn’t lead the user on to more dangerous drugs like heroin. The facts don’t bear them out … too many girls and boys have died already, starting on pot and going on to something stronger, for there to be any real argument.’
"Unfortunate Image of Hippy Earnestness"
The British press again lined up behind the establishment to target Lennon’s activism. ‘There is an unfortunate image of hippy earnestness directing liberal causes from the deep upholstery of a Beatle’s income,’ sniffed The Times that month.
This is real great stuff to read. Very interesting and informative, it sure shines a light on the times, and what people were thinking. I appreciate McNab including such commentary, because it nicely breaks up the cold hard facts and chronological reporting constitute most of the book.
Now I will get into some parts of the book that made me raise an eyebrow, because of the author's choice of words, perhaps something I see as not entirely fair, or in one case, a simple error he's made. Four gripes:
"Preachy" Harrison
Devoid of the preachy overtones that weighed down some of his more recent songs, ‘Here Comes The Sun’ was warm, exuberant and brimful of optimism with a chorus that was delightfully infectious. On hearing it for the first time, McCartney must have winced at its effortless-sounding melody, one that could just as easily have sprung from his own well.
McNab probably isn't wrong, but I still feel the need to call him out. It is just his opinion though. There is a bit of a jab at Paul here though. It is just a smug theory, with no proof cited as to how Paul actually felt.
"Maxwell's Silver Hammer" is "Universally Hated"
Over the next two weeks they maintained slow but steady progress in honing ‘Here Comes The Sun’, ‘Something’, and the universally hated ‘Maxwell’ while tackling McCartney’s ‘Oh! Darling’.
Definitely not hated by all. Maybe the other Beatles. They grew to hate it after having to do multiple takes over multiple days. John was the most vocal about it.
Non-Photogenic Ringo
And all he had to do was act naturally. Ringo Starr may not have been the most photogenic Fab, but the movie camera loved him.
Maybe it's true, and/or subjective. Judge for yourself.
Dissing “You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)”
After recording a new Harrison lead guitar overdub for ‘Let It Be’ Lennon and McCartney excavated an eighteen-month-old track. It was a curious choice. ‘You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)’, a Lennon creation, had absolutely no commercial value and bordered on Goons-like comedy. Yet McCartney would strangely later recall the session as one of his favourites. A multi-part song containing a nightclub cabaret pastiche and a host of silly voices and effects, ‘You Know My Name’ had been initially recorded in the weeks after the completion of the Sgt. Pepper album and then left on the shelf. In truth, though, it was an old note which should have remained unopened.
This is where I draw the line! This song absolutely deserves to exist, and I don't think it's strange or confusing at all as to why Paul would remember the song's sessions so fondly. They had so much fun! Paul calls the tune his #1 favourite Beatles song because of the great fun they had recording it. This results in fantastic memories whenever he looks back on the track. Makes sense to me.
Now I will mention the error I spotted:
Film called "Smile"
Lennon and Yoko occasionally broke cover, notably on 10 September, when they hosted a screening at the Institute of Contemporary Arts in London of a new film they had made. It was called Smile, a fifteen-minute slow-motion study of Lennon’s penis becoming erect. John wittily predicted the critics wouldn’t touch it.
According to the film's IMDb article, the film is called Self-Portrait, and it is 42 minutes long. McNab has slipped up in terms of its title and runtime. Also, I am not sure about John's "prediction", but I can safely say that Yoko's remark that "the critics wouldn't touch it" is the more famous one, so perhaps McNab is confused here as well.
And to wrap things up, I will conclude by selecting two instances of shining Lennon wit that I found interesting and humorous, respectively:
Is that The Art of War he's referencing?
He continued: ‘A lot of people say, now, if you had only done it straight, it would have been much more effective. And it’s the same as if you’d only get your hair cut and wear a straight suit, you’d be more effective. One, I wouldn’t be myself. Two, I don’t believe people believe politicians, especially the youth. They’ve had enough of short hair and suits saying this is, as if, you know … It’s like … is every priest a holy man just coz he’s got a dog collar on, you know. Nobody believes that any more. And we do this intuitively. But after we’ve done it for a few times, we always had some irrelevancy or something in the campaign, you know.
And Yoko’s telling me about this ancient Chinese book that tells you how to conduct a battle. And it says the castle always falls from within. Never from without, you know, hardly ever, like America. And it also says, don’t have all the doors closed when you’re fighting, you know. Don’t have every door shut. Coz the enemy will put all the pressure on and you might crumple. Always leave one door open and the enemy will concentrate their fire there and then you’ll know where it’s coming. So our door open is long hair, nudism, nudity whatever the word is, mentioning “Cold Turkey” in such a serious thing as Biafra and Vietnam, you know, and let the people point their finger, you know. “Oh, he’s … they’re naked,” you know. “They look like freaks.” But it doesn’t interfere with the campaign, you know. Nobody attacks peace.’
“Whoever heard of a bald Beatle?”
McBean was amazed when he viewed the four Beatles through his viewfinder – and even more amazed that they were still together. He recalled: ‘In 1963 I asked John Lennon how long they would stay as a group, and he said, “Oh, about six years, I suppose – whoever heard of a bald Beatle?” Well, it was just six years later that I was asked to repeat the shot with The Beatles as they now looked – very hairy indeed.’
Because of the book's subject matter, I would be lying if I said I "really liked it". So from me it will receive a mere three stars despite being soundly written. It was the same case with Peter Brown's book, The Love You Make: An Insider's Story of the Beatles . A worthwhile account, notably for the instances of personal insight only he could provide. But he does tend to focus on the negative, ugly, depressing stories of the band, and riled some tempers in the process. Famously Paul burned his copy. But anyway, I gave that one three stars because it wasn't all that pleasant to read. And it is the same case here, but in a less salacious way, and rather due to the nature of the facts presented: that they painstakingly detail, with grim sobriety, the disintegration of the world's greatest band....more
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