Music

Paul Simon Solo – Shattered Dreams and Nice Bright Colors

Like Simon and Garfunkel, Paul Simon’s solo career mostly seemed to fly under the media radar until his groundbreaking 1986 album Graceland. He’s a low-key, soft-spoken, and modest rock star compared to Bob Dylan’s, Paul McCartney’s, and the Rolling Stones’ more forceful presence, although he’s hosted Saturday Night Live repeatedly. This was in spite of a string of hits and other great songs, and albums that were like comets in the musical sky: “Mother and Child Reunion,” Loves Me Like a Rock,” “American Tune,” ”Kodachrome,” “Still Crazy after All These Years,” “Gone at Last” with Phoebe Snow,“ and Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard;” then “You Can Call Me Al,” “Graceland,” “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes,” and “Homeless” from Graceland. He was as musically adventurous as anyone, with forays into reggae rhythms and gospel, Brazilian polyrhythmic drumming, plus collaborations with African musicians, Los Lobos, and Cajun Zydeco music. His songs are often as satisfying for their musicianship as for the lyrics and melodies.

“Mother and Child Reunion” exploded on the charts in 1972 with the eponymous Paul Simon. It’s at once a lament at being laid low emotionally and a profession of faith that “The mother and child reunion is only a motion away.” It's hard to say what he meant by that, but it sounds like an expectation of a gentler, more loving consciousness like the 60s counterculture movement called for. The energy and pace carried the listener along like a fast-moving ocean wave. The rest of the album was more low-key, but the songs had a staying power that had them playing frequently in my head. Two songs are about the wear and tear of lifestyle choices on the body, “Everything Put Together Falls Apart” and “Run That Body Down.” The first is a warning:

Takin downs to get off to sleep

And ups to start you on your way

After a while they’ll change your style

I see it happenin’ every day . . .

But when it’s done

And the police come, and they lay you down for dead

Ooh, Ooh, Ooh Just remember what I said

Both have wistfully melancholic but engaging melodies. The second turns it on himself:

Went to my doctor yesterday . . .

She said

“Paul, you better look around.

How long you think that you can

Run that body down?

How many nights you think that you can

Do what you been doin?

Now who you foolin?”

In the second verse he asks his wife the same questions, then addresses it to “Kid” in the third. It’s a gentle and compassionate questioning rather than an accusation. “Peace Like a River,” another favorite of mine, is a moody tune that suggests the aftermath of some not-too-peaceful clash between protesters and police, but takes a determined stance at the end:

Ah, peace like a river ran through the city

Long past the midnight curfew, we sat starry-eyed

Oh-oh, oh-oh, we were satisfied. Oh, and I remember

Misinformation followed us like a plague

Nobody knew from time to time if the plans were changed

Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, if the plans were changed

You can beat us with wires, you can beat us with chains

You can run out your rules

But you know you can't outrun the history train

I seen a glorious day, ai-ee

The last verse has the narrator waking up at 4:00 AM and being “reconciled” that he’s “gonna be up for a while.” There’s a sadness in the song but hope as well. “Papa Hobo” is a resigned but lightly upbeat song about a transient trying to get himself out of the city:

It's carbon and monoxide

The ol' Detroit perfume

It hangs on the highways in the mornin'

And it lays you down by noon . . .

I been sweepin' up the tips I've made

I been livin' on Gatorade . . .

Detroit, Detroit . . . got a left-handed way

Of makin' a man sign up on that automotive dream . . .

Could you slip me a ride?

Well, it's just after breakfast

I’m in the road, and the weatherman lied

“Paranoia Blues” recounts the stress of living in the unsafe city with an ominous aura but with some subtle humor in the song’s ironic tone.

I fly into J.F.K.

My heart goes boom boom boom

I know that customs man

He's going to take me

To that little room

Oh, no, no . . .

I got the paranoia blues

From knockin' around in New York City

Where they roll you for a nickel

And they stick you for the extra dime

Anyway you choose

You're bound to lose in New York City

Oh, I just got out in the nick of time

Well, I just got out in the nick of time

The album also contained the hit “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard,” the only popular song I know of about homosexuality, implied but not explicit -- except Little Richard's "Tutti-Frutti." It has a Latin sound with an upbeat quick and infectious reggae-like rhythm. “When the radical priest come to get me released/We was all on the cover of Newsweek.”

The next album Simon released was the superb There Goes Rhymin’ Simon, with its cover of images for all the songs with their titles on an atrocious background of graph paper. But it had the dynamite hit “Kodachrome,” one of the most exhilarating pieces of rock-and-roll I’ve ever heard, simply about the satisfaction of taking photographs with an SLR camera.

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school

It's a wonder I can think at all

And my lack of education hasn't hurt me none

I can read the writing on the wall

Kodachrome, they give us those nice bright colors

They give us the greens of summers

Makes you think that all the world's a sunny day

I got a Nikon camera

I love to take a photograph

So Mama don't take my Kodachrome away . . .

Mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Mama don't take my Kodachrome

Leave your boy so far from home

Mama don't take my Kodachrome away

The song is a joyous celebration with a relentless and driving rhythm that energizes the listener until you feel like a soaring eagle. The lead instrument is a piano with an energy that builds until the song ends in an ecstatic pounding fury on the keys. There are very few songs I can think that can match its exuberant intensity, maybe none. The other absolute gem on the album is “American Tune,” a thoughtful and gentle meditation on the state of the union written just after Nixon was reelected in 1972. It has a beautiful melody and has been covered by Willie Nelson, Rhiannon Giddens, Shawn Colvin, Allen Toussaint, the Indigo Girls, and Dave Matthews as well as others. It’s accompanied by a very simple rhythm guitar and modest strings. It’s even more relevant today.

I don't know a soul who's not been battered

I don't have a friend who feels at ease

I don't know a dream that's not been shattered

Or driven to its knees

But it's alright, it's alright

For we lived so well so long

Still, when I think of the

Road we're traveling on

I wonder what's gone wrong

I can't help it, I wonder what’s gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying

I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly

And looking back down at me

Smiled reassuringly

And I dreamed I was flying

And high up above my eyes could clearly see

The Statue of Liberty

Sailing away to sea . . .

We come on the ship they call The Mayflower

We come on the ship that sailed the moon

We come in the age's most uncertain hour

And sing an American tune

Oh but it's al- right, it's alright, it's alright

You can't be forever blessed

Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day

And I'm trying to get some rest

That's all, I'm trying to get some rest

When he sings “I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered/Or driven to its knees,” it’s so true for the moment in history we’re in. And the majority of us can’t help wondering "what’s gone wrong," even if for different reasons. But the ominous image that gives the song its power is ”my eyes could clearly see/The Statue of Liberty/Sailing away to sea.” Today it’s not just sailing away, it’s being forcefully driven from the harbor.

The album’s full of good songs, like the tender “St Judy’s Comet,” about trying to sing his toddler son to sleep.

Well, I sang it once and I sang it twice

Gonna sing it three times more

Gonna stay 'til your resistance is overcome

'Cause if I can't sing my boy to sleep

Well, it makes your famous daddy look so dumb

Won't you run come see St. Judy's Comet

Roll across the skies

And leave a spray of diamonds in its wake

. . . Little boy, little boy

Won't you close your weary eyes

Ain't nothin' flashin' but the fireflies . . .

Well, the hour of your bedtime's long been past

Though I know you're fightin'

I can tell when you rub your eyes

That you're fadin' fast, ooh, fadin' fast

“Tenderness,” about how people communicate in a relationship, sounds personal for Simon. It’s backed by the black gospel group The Dixie Hummingbirds, with a falsetto accompaniment.

What can I do, what can I do?

Much of what you say is true

I know you see through me

But there's no tenderness

Beneath your honesty

Oh, right and wrong, right and wrong

Never helped us get along

You say you care for me

But there's no tenderness

Beneath your honesty

. . . No you don't have to lie to me

Just give me some tenderness

Beneath your honesty

The other hit song on the album was “Loves Me Like a Rock,” also accompanied by the Dixie Hummingbirds (their words in parentheses below). It’s a rocker with a driving, pulsating beat best heard live on his Live Rhymin' album with another gospel group called the Jesse Dixon Singers.

And if I was President

(Was the President)

And the congress call my name

(Was the President)

I'd say now, "Who do . . .

Who do you think you're foolin'?

(Who do you think you're foolin'?)

I've got the Presidential seal

(Was the President)

I'm up on the Presidential podium

My mama loves me, she loves me

She get down on her knees and hug me

And she loves me like a rock

She rock me like the rock of ages

And loves me

She love me, love me, love me, love me

(Loves me like a rock …)

All the songs on the album are satisfying, but the other one I especially love is “One Man’s Ceiling Is Another Man’s Floor,” one reason I lived in two successive second story apartments when I was younger before I bought a home. The second and third verses:

There’s been a bloody purple nose

And some bloody purple clothes

That were messin up the lobby floor . . .

There's been some strange goin's on

And some folks have come and gone

Like the elevator man don't work no more

I heard a racket in the hall

And I thought I heard a fall

But I never opened up my door

It's just apartment house sense

It's like apartment rents

Remember: one man's ceiling is another man's floor!

One man's ceiling is another man's floor!

The title is a wise philosophical maxim we would all do well to remember that generalizes aptly to lots of situations. It starts with an ominous bluesy/jazzy piano that keeps dropping in pitch until Simon's voice drops in pitch with a worldly-wise tone. But on the last verse he wails in a chilly and ominous tone that captures the anxiety of living in an unsafe city neighborhood. I’m sure he didn’t live in such a neighborhood, but he captures the foreboding uneasiness perfectly.

There's an alley

in the back of my building

Where some people congregate in shame

I was walking with my dog

And the night was black with smog

When I thought I heard somebody call my name!

“Something So Right” is another tune about relationship issues, this time a confessional one about the difficulty of trusting.

When something goes wrong

I'm the first to admit it

And the last one to know

When something goes right

Oh, it's likely to lose me, mmm

It's apt to confuse me

It's such an unusual sight

Oh, I can't, I can't get used to something so right

They've got a wall in China

It's a thousand miles long

To keep out the foreigners they made it strong

And I got a wall around me

That you can't even see

It took a little time to get next to me

Some people never say the words "I love you"

It's not their style to be so bold

Some people never say the words "I love you"

But like a child they're longing to be told

It's musically complex, with three guitarists including Simon listed, piano and an unspecified “keyboard” plus strings arranged by Quincy Jones, and a nice melody with a soothing vibe. Simon’s next album was Live Rhymin’, with his hit songs, accompanied by the Jesse Dixon Singers, plus Urubamba on “El Condor Pasa.” It’s electric in its energy and in the powerful singing of the Jesse Dixon Singers. Still Crazy after All These Years followed, which seemed uninspired to me in spite of an energetic duet with Phoebe Snow titled “Gone at Last.” It produced two hits, a cynical “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” and the title song, that ends with

I fear I’ll do some damage one fine day

But I would not be convicted

By a jury of my peers

Still crazy after all these years

Our current president once expressed a similar conviction, but it’s hard to imagine two people less alike than Simon and Trump, the latter boastful, arrogant, loud, and insensitive; the former soft-spoken, sensitive, modest, and self-effacing. I don’t know what he was thinking – it’s hard to imagine anyone less likely to cause “damage” that would put him in a court of law.

It’s hard to top There Goes Rhymin’ Simon and Live Rhymin’, but 1986’s Graceland is his best album, for my money. It’s adventurous music made in genres Simon had not recorded in with people unlike he’d ever recorded with: a wonderful black a capella vocal group from South Africa named Ladysmith Black Mambazo, South African guitarist Chikapa “Ray” Phiri and his band Stimela, Los Lobos from Los Angeles, and the Cajun Zydeco band Good Rockin’ Dopsie and the Twisters from Lafayette, Louisiana, plus a few others. None of the songs sound like other music by Simon or like any other American music I’ve heard. It starts with Simon singing along with the group Tao Ea Matsekha on “The Boy in the Bubble,” a lively song with a complex blend of accordion, bass, synthesizer and synthesizer guitar and drums:

These are the days of miracle and wonder

This is the long distance call

The way the camera follows us in slo-mo

The way we look to us all

The way we look to a distant constellation

That's dying in a corner of the sky

These are the days of miracle and wonder

And don't cry baby, don't cry, don't cry

“Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” is an inspired, fast-paced danceable tune with fascinating musical accompaniment like nothing I know, including prominent and driving electric bass lines that make the bass almost a lead instrument.

People say she's crazy

She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes

Well that's one way to lose these walking blues

Diamonds on the soles of her shoes

She was physically forgotten

When she slipped into my pocket

With my car keys

She said you've taken me for granted

Because I please you

Wearing these diamonds

And I could say Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh . . .

As if everybody would know

Exactly what I was talking about

Talking about diamonds on the soles of her shoes

The album is so unlike anything I’ve heard before or since, even moreso than The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s or The White Album that it’s hard to find words to describe it. Highway 61 Revisited is probably the most comparable example of groundbreaking music. The next song is ”You Can Call Me Al,” the other big hit besides “Graceland,” both of which coincidentally sound a little more like American rock and roll than most of the songs on the album. “Call Me Al” has a large band with horns plus the musicians on “Boy in the Bubble,” minus the accordion. There’s so much going on in the rich musical accompaniment that you can hardly take it all in, but it has an exhilarating beat like “Kodachrome” that lifts your energy level so you don’t want it to end.

“Homeless” starts in Zulu, then a verse with Simon’s lyrics, repeated in variations over nine lines by Joseph Shabalala and Ladysmith Black Mambazo in beautiful high-register singing: “Homeless, homeless/Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake.” Shabalala and Ladysmith then continue in Zulu, alternating with some English:

Strong wind destroy our home

Many dead, tonight it could be you

Strong wind, strong wind

Many dead, tonight it could be you

And we are homeless, homeless

Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake

Homeless, homeless

Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake (repeat)

Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih

Somebody sing hello, hello, hello

Somebody say ih hih ih hih ih

Somebody cry why, why, why (repeat)

“Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake” is such a wonderful image of peace that it counters the sadness of the theme and plays over and over in my head. The album doesn’t list times, but it’s a fairly long song. The ten-member Ladysmith Black Mambazo sings in a beautiful high-pitched Zulu, which sounds like a gorgeous language, and their voices are lovely, making it a wonderful listen that soars over the theme. “Under African Skies” has the same melodic beauty of language with Ray Phiri’s band, a slapping bass, and Linda Ronstadt singing beautiful harmony.

Joseph's face was black as night

The pale yellow moon shone in his eyes

His path was marked by the stars

In the Southern hemisphere

And he walked his days under African skies

This is the story of how we begin to remember

This is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

After the dream of falling and calling your name out

These are the roots of rhythm

And the roots of rhythm remain

I said take this child, Lord,

From Tucson, Arizona

Give her the wings to fly through harmony

And she won’t bother you no more

It’s always sounded like a bit of a slight to Ronstadt to refer to her as a "bother." She recently singled out Simon as one of seven men she worked with who deprecated her talent in insulting ways, something she avoided saying anything about for decades. Ronstadt is truly an amazing artist with great taste in material who’s taken even more dramatic risks with her career than Simon, comparable to Bob Dylan. “That Was Your Mother” shifts to Zydeco and accordion, washboard, and saxophone plus the usual guitar, drums and bass with Good Rockin’ Dopsie and the Twisters in a fast-paced in an enthusiastic Cajun dish:

Well, that was your mother

And that was your father

Before you was born dude

When life was great

You are the burden of my generation

I sure do love you

Let’s get that straight

Well, I’m standin’ on the corner of Lafayette . . .

Heading down to the Lone Star Café

Maybe get a little conversation

Drink a little red wine

Standin’ in the shadow of Clifton Chenier

Dancin’ the night away

The album ends with “All Around the World or The Myth of Fingerprints,” with Los Lobos:

Over the mountain

Down in the valley

Lives a former talk-show host

Everybody knows his name

He says, "There's no doubt about it

It was the myth of fingerprints

I've seen them all and, man,

They're all the same"

Well, the sun gets weary

And the sun goes down

Ever since the watermelon

And the lights come up

On the black pit town

Somebody says, "What's a better thing to do?"

Well, it's not just me

And it's not just you

This is all around the world

Fingerprints are certainly not all the same, but it seems Simon is using it as a metaphor to say all human beings are basically the same in their feelings and wants in spite of different beliefs and personalities. It’s an upbeat song with a brisk rhythm and great music from Los Lobos.

With Graceland Simon said “I tried not to censor the words and to keep an ear cocked to see if a phrase came out that was interesting enough to suggest that my subconscious had allowed something significant to bubble out,” a direction his lyrics had seemed to be moving in with Rhymin’ Simon. So his lyrics often didn’t “make sense,” much like those of Dylan, The Band, Paul McCartney, the Grateful Dead, John Prine, and others. Even so, many such lyrics are among my favorites and run pleasurably in my head on a regular basis, like McCartney’s “She Came in Through the Bathroom Window” and “Monkberry Moon Delight.”

He put out other albums that received critical praise, including Rhythm of the Saints, Hearts and Bones, and Seven Psalms, but I wasn’t moved by them. Rhythm was an album driven by Brazilian polyrhythmic drumming. “Can’t Run, But” seemed to mostly repeat the line “Can’t run, but I can walk much faster than this” over and over. The album was lyrically disappointing, and the drumming didn’t stand out as distinctive from song to song to me.

Simon and Garfunkel were essentially Paul Simon plus Garfunkel’s harmonies, although Garfunkel is credited as co-writer on “Scarborough Fair/Canticle,” and Garfunkel sang “Bridge Over Troubled Water” and “Old Friends.” It’s not clear whether Garfunkel wrote the lyrics or music or both on “Scarborough Fair.” But Simon’s solo musical output remains some of the most lyrically and instrumentally enjoyable music of the 1970s and 80s, with beautiful and powerful poetry, complex and exhilarating rhythms and instrumentation as well as quiet and sensitive ballads, and wonderful melodies. He’s a musician who’s sustained his creativity over decades like Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Bonnie Raitt, Van Morrison, Tony Bennett, and Linda Ronstadt. His albums are always a treat to listen to, even though I’ve heard them a hundred times or more.

Brett Nelson

Creedence Clearwater Revival – Wrote a Song for Everyone

Sometime around 1970, songs by a band named Creedence Clearwater Revival began to grab my attention, probably in early 1969 with the release of “Proud Mary” from their second album, titled Bayou Country. It had a raw swamp-rock sound that was unlike anything I’d ever heard before. But above all it had the VOICE, John Fogerty’s singing voice with a rural black sound that sounded natural for him and down home like country blues.

Over the next few years, CCR had hit after hit after hit, 14 consecutive top-10 singles in a wide variety of song styles and 5 consecutive top-10 albums in three years. They were almost too popular for my snobbish taste – I was listening to albums rather than radio and looking for music outside mainstream pop radio. But I couldn’t help being captivated by what I heard from them when I occasionally turned on the radio in the car, and I started buying their albums and loving the other songs besides the hits. I think the first album I bought was Willie and the Poor Boys, with CCR portrayed on the cover and in the song “Down on the Corner” as an alter-ego band by that name, playing in front of the Duck Kee Market to three small black children – John on harmonica, Doug Clifford on washboard, Stu Cook on washtub base, and brother Tom Fogerty on acoustic guitar.

“Down on the Corner” is acoustic with standard drums, and John’s voice sounds to me like he’s channeling a black country blues singer. I was very surprised to find out that voice was coming from a white guy. I thought he was black in the beginning and don’t remember how I learned he wasn’t. It was a vocal sound and singing style like none before and like no one, black or white, that I’ve heard since.

Early in the evenin just about suppertime

Over by the courthouse they’re startin to unwind

Four kids on the corner tryin to bring you up

Willie picks a tune out and he blows it on the harp

Down on the corner

Out in the street

Willie and the Poor Boys are playin

Bring a nickel, tap your feet . . .

You don’t need a penny just to hang around

But if you got a nickel won’t you lay your money down

Over on the corner there’s a happy noise

People come from all around to watch the magic boy

Maybe someone who’s black would hear white inflections that I don’t, but I’ve listened to a lot of blues singers and I’d be surprised. There’s nothing special in white singers sounding black, but Fogerty’s singing style and tone sounded perfectly natural for him, not like a white musician trying to sound black as, dare I say it, Eric Clapton. It’s not a generic black voice, but a distinctive and individual one, a true original. Where he got that voice and those speech patterns I don’t know, but it’s unique – there was no one I knew, black or white, who sang quite like that.

Creedence Clearwater Revival . . . were progressive and anachronistic at the same time. An unapologetic throwback to the golden

era of rock and roll, they broke ranks with their peers on the progressive, psychedelic San Francisco scene. Their approach was

basic and uncompromising, holding true to the band members' working-class origins. – Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

“Fortunate Son” was a prime example of a working-class origins song. It’s propelled by a driving drumbeat with simple electric guitar lines:

Some folks are born made to wave the flag

Ooh, that red, white, and blue

But when they play “Hail to the Chief”

Ooh, they’re pointin the cannon at you, lord

It ain’t me, it ain’t me

I ain’t no senator’s son, no, no

It ain’t me, it ain’t me

I ain’t no fortunate one, no, no

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand

Lord, don’t they help themselves?

But when the taxman come to the door

Lord, the house look like a rummage sale . . .

Some folks inherit star-spangled eyes

Ooh, they’ll send you down to war

And when you ask em “how much should we give?”

Ooh, they only answer “More, more, more”

The second song on Willie and the Poor Boys is a funny novelty tune I love titled “It Came Out of the Sky,” with a twangy rockabilly guitar, reminiscent of the Roswell alien incident or The Dillards’ “The Biggest Whatever Anybody Ever Saw.”

Oh, it came out of the sky landed just a little south of Moline

Jody fell out of his tractor couldn't believe what he seen

He laid on the ground, he shook fearin' for his life

Then he ran all the way to town screamin' "It came out of the sky . . .”

Oh the newspapers came and made Jody a national hero

Walter and Eric said they'd put him on a network TV show

The White House said, "Put the thing in the blue room"

The Vatican said, "No it belongs to Rome"

Jody said, "It's mine but you can have it for seventeen million"

The album has two great covers of songs that Lead Belly was known for, his own “Cotton Fields” ("When them cotton balls get rotten/You can't pick very much cotton/In them old cotton fields back home"), and the traditional prison song “Midnight Special,” both favorite CCR songs for me. CCR’s recording of “Midnight Special” is by far the best of several versions I’ve heard, including Lead Belly’s. Fogerty's channeling a prison inmate looking forward to the only light that ever shines into his cell when the train makes its nightly run. It's an old time acoustic country blues song about a train from Houston shining its light into the cells of the Sugar Land Prison.

Well you wake up in the mornin', you hear the work bell ring

And they march you to the table, you see the same old thing

Ain't no food upon the table and no pork up in the pan

But you better not complain boy, you'll get in trouble with the man

Yonder come Miss Rosie, how in the world did you know?

By the way she wore her apron and the clothes she wore

Umbrella on her shoulder, piece of paper in her hand

She come to see the Governor, she want to free her man

Let the midnight special shine a light on me

Let the midnight special shine a ever lovin' light on me

If you're ever in Houston, boy you better walk right

You better not gamble, and you better not fight

The Sheriff will arrest you and the boys’ll bring you down

The next thing you know, boy you're prison bound

The other gem on the album is “Don’t Look Now,” a meditation on reluctance to shoulder responsibility for hard things that need to be done, without being a finger-pointer.

Who’ll work the field with his hands?

Who’ll put his back to the plough?

Who'll take the mountain and give it to the sea?

Don't look now, it ain't you or me

Don't look now, someone's done your starvin'

Don't look now, someone's done your prayin'

Who’ll make the shoes for your feet?

Who’ll make the clothes that you wear?

Who'll take the promise that you don't have to keep?

Don't look now, it ain't you or me

The song's a gentle, sobering question implying we all fall short in doing what we could to bear the burdens society offers to us. It could have been titled “It Ain’t You or Me,” which is the punch line of the song. It’s a compassionate critique that includes himself in the failure, sung with a contagious melody and a foot-tapping beat. There are a couple very brief guitar fills from different-sounding guitars, perhaps one from brother Tom. I always heard “starvin” as “plowin” and “take the promise” as “make the promise,” which seem to make more sense to me, but maybe Fogerty wanted to focus on the issue of hunger. He sings it with rural black inflections but without the rawness of many of his other songs, especially the blues numbers.

About the same time I bought Cosmo’s Factory. “Who’ll Stop the Rain?” was the big hit from it, another question song with a more direct social commentary than “Don’t Look Now.” It was on the radio constantly and has always been one of my favorites.

Long as I remember the rain been coming down

Clouds of mystery pourin confusion on the ground

Good men through the ages tryin to find the sun

And I wonder, still I wonder, who’ll stop the rain?

I went down Virginia seekin shelter from the storm

Caught up in the fable I watched the tower grow

Five-year plans and new deals wrapped in golden chains

And I wonder, still I wonder, who’ll stop the rain?

A lament about the inability of “good men through the ages” to stop the rain of suffering that people lacking wealth and power endure, it’s obliquely political. The singer goes to Virginia seeking shelter and gets “caught up in the fable” as he “watched the tower grow,” finding “five year plans and new deals wrapped in golden chains.” He seems to imply that, no matter what the economic system is, people in power milk it for their benefit. It’s not an optimistic song, though there’s a lot of sadness and compassion in it. It’s driven by a heavy and rhythmic drumbeat and a simple and understated electric guitar over a great melody.

The album contains two excellent blues numbers – Bo Diddley’s “Before You Accuse Me” and Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup’s “My Baby Left Me,” on both of which Fogerty sounds again like an old blues man. The first has a loping drum beat and a couple nice electric guitar runs. The latter has a relentless drum beat and a simple but tasty electric guitar fill.

Another standout from Cosmo’s Factory was an 11-minute cover of Marvin Gaye’s “I Heard It through the Grapevine” that doesn’t take a back seat to Gaye’s version -- and I’ve listened to both. With its length it wasn’t released as a single until 1976, in a shortened version that became a minor hit. It’s propelled by a drumbeat that has a Native American feel, with moody off-and-on instrumental runs with electric guitar that embody the fear and dread that the rumor is true.

CCR then lightens up with “Ooby Dooby,” a Roy Orbison dance tune that makes your feet tap and is just fun to listen to. It also has some great guitar solos. That’s followed by the hallucinatory “Lookin Out My Back Door” with a rockabilly country sound.

Just got home from Illinois, lock the front door, oh, boy!

Got to sit down, take a rest on the porch.

Imagination sets in, pretty soon I'm singin'.

Doot’n, doo, doo lookin' out my back door.

Giant doing cartwheels, statue wearin' high heels.

Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn.

Dinosaur Victrola list'ning to Buck Owens.

Doot’n, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door.

Tambourines and elephants are playing in the band.

Won't you take a ride on a flyin' spoon? . . .

Doot’n, doo, doo, lookin out my back door.

The lyrics are pure play, like some of Paul McCartney’s playful songs (“She Came in through the Bathroom Window” and “Monkberry Moon Delight”). It’s really an uptempo country song with acid trip lyrics, though I don’t think Fogerty was into drugs very much.

My favorite piece on the album is the 7-minute “Ramble Tamble,” which starts off with high energy, fast electric guitar and very primitive relentless drums.

There's mud in the water

Roaches in the cellar

Bugs in the sugar

Mortgage on the home

There's garbage on the sidewalk

Highways in the back yard

Police on the corner

Mortgage on the car

Mooo-oo-ve – Down the road I go

They're selling independence

Actors in the White House

Acid indigestion

Mortgage on my life

Mooo-oo-ve – Down the road I go

After the second verse the tempo slows with a repetitious, sinister-sounding guitar line, but the drums speed up, and another guitar with a different tone comes in with a very ominous rise and fall. Then the song picks up its earlier tempo and guitar-phrasing for the last verse. When he sings “Mooo-oo-ve – Down the road I go,” it’s not clear whether he’s just getting out of town or it’s “Look out, I’m comin,” but it feels like the latter. It’s a high-energy, dramatically tense song with an ominous tone, like a warning of what’s coming, both from threatening forces and from the singer. It’s an exciting and blood-stirring song to listen to. I love it that the line “Actors in the White House” proved prophetic.

The other songs on the album – “Travelin Band,” with a Little Richard frenzy, “Run Through the Jungle,” and “Long As I Can See the Light” are all good songs and got frequent radio airplay, as I remember. There’s not a song on the album that isn’t a pleasure to listen to.

The next album I got was Pendulum, probably because “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” was playing on the radio and echoed “Who’ll Stop the Rain." Led by acoustic guitar and piano with the usual prominent drumbeat, it had a similar melody and melancholy sentiment, but without a political note. “(Wish I Could) Hideaway” was a soulful lament about a friendship ending, perhaps written about his brother Tom, who left the band after Pendulum came out. You can hear a deep sadness in his voice. It’s anchored by John’s solemn, melancholy organ, with his voice rising almost to falsetto on “hideaway.”

Howdy friend, begging your pardon

Is there something on your mind?

You've gone and sold

all your belongings . . .

Well, I know you really never liked

The way it all goes down

Go on, hideaway . . .

I wish you well

Think it's gonna rain

Oh, what's the difference

Is there some way I can help?

'Cause you know, I'm gonna miss you

When you're gone, oh, Lord

Wish I could hideaway

The organ also sets the mood for “It’s Just a Thought,” another wistful lament but not as heavy as “Hideaway.”

It's just a thought

But I've noticed somethin' strange

Gettin' harder to explain

All the years are passin' bye and bye

Still I don't know

What makes it go

Who said to wait and you'll see?

It's just a thought

But I wondered if you knew

That the song up there is you

They can't take it from you

If you don't give it away

Don't give it away

It’s an enigmatic song with a bit of mystery: “I wondered if you knew/That the song up there is you.” Is that directed toward his brother or to his audience? I’ve always loved the lines “They can’t take it from you/If you don’t give it away/Don’t give it away,” even though I have no idea what “it” is. But it sounds like an admonition to hang on to what you have.

Besides “Have You Ever Seen the Rain,” “Hey Tonight,” a rousing invitation to come listen to music and have a good time, and “Molina,” a fast rocker, were hits, and I like both. But the other song I really like is “Sailor’s Lament,” about a sailor getting cheated in a poker game.

Woke up early feelin' light

Shame, it's a shame

Somebody got to me last night

Shame, it's a shame

Sat down for a friendly duel

(Shame, it's a shame)

With one-eyed jacks 'n' jokers too

Shame, it's a shame

Poormouth Henry turned to me

Shame, it's a shame

Said, "Boy, I'm gonna pick you clean"

Shame, it's a shame

Henry said, "Don't you mess that pile"

Shame, it's a shame

Had three aces 'n' he had five

Shame, it's a shame

I believe I bought Green River next. The title song is an invitation to get away from the towns and highways and get back home to ”where the neons turn to wood.” It’s a laid back ode to country life with people who care about each other.

Well, take me back down where cool water flow, y’all

Let me remember things I love, Lord

Stoppin' at the log where catfish bite

Walkin' along the river road at night

Barefoot girls dancin' in the moonlight

I can hear the bullfrog callin' me

Wonder if my rope's still hangin' to the tree

Love to kick my feet way down the shallow water

Shoo fly, dragon fly, get back to mother

Pick up a flat rock, skip it across Green River

The song's a paean to rural country life in a place that used to be home, supposedly prompted by a vacation Fogerty took in such a place. It starts with a lazy, rhythmic beat on electric guitar, then base, then drums in a simple tune that breaks with a tasty guitar solo. “Bad Moon Rising” was their second big hit after “Proud Mary.” It’s one of Fogerty’s ominous songs of warning like “Run Through the Jungle” (which was brother Tom’s favorite – “They told me don’t go walkin slow/The devil’s on the loose/ Better run through the jungle/Oh, don’t look back.”) “Bad Moon Rising” has a similar warning.

I see the bad moon risin'

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin'

I see bad times today

Don't go around tonight

Well, it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise

Hope you got your things together

Hope you are quite prepared to die

Looks like we're in for nasty weather

One eye is taken for an eye

Well, don't go around tonight

Well, it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise

It's a country tune with a rolling rhythm and a jumpy beat that warns us to pay attention and take care, but with the danger less immediate. The musical accompaniment doesn’t have the dark, foreboding quality of “Run Through the Jungle.” It’s lighter, with a pleasant melody that’s undercut by the message. “Lodi” is my favorite song from the album, a country-flavored down-on-his-luck tune about a musician with no money to buy a ticket out of a small town.

Just about a year ago

I set out on the road

Seekin' my fame and fortune

Lookin' for a pot of gold

Things got bad, and things got worse

I guess you know the tune

Oh, Lord, stuck in Lodi again

The man from the magazine

Said I was on my way

Somewhere I lost connections

Ran out of songs to play

I came into town on a one-night stand

Looks like my plans fell through

Oh, Lord, stuck in Lodi again

If I only had a dollar

For every song I've sung

Every time I've had to play

While people sat there drunk

You know, I'd catch the next train

Back to where I live

Oh, Lord, stuck in Lodi again

Fogerty was flying high at the time, but he said he imagined what it might be like if his time passed him by. The song has a nice country rhythm, and the line “Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again” sticks in my head because it just seems to capture the depth of an end-of-the-line “what am I gonna do now” pathos. The other song I really like on Green River is “Wrote a Song for Everyone,” a lament about the inability to communicate with someone dear.

Met myself a comin county welfare line

I was feelin strung out, hung out one the line

Saw myself a goin down to war in June

What I want, what I want is to write myself a tune

Wrote a song for everyone

Wrote a song for truth

Wrote a song for everyone

And I couldn’t even talk to you

It’s a gentle, laid-back lament with a depth of feeling like that in “Lodi” or “Hideaway,” like it’s coming from a much older man with a lot of life behind him and compassion for his fellow-sufferers, instead of a twenty-something rock and roll musician leading the hottest band in America. On “Bad Moon Rising,” “Lodi,” and “Wrote a Song for Everyone” Fogerty sounds more like a white singer but never loses the country black flavor in his singing entirely.

CCR did one more forgettable album titled Mardis Gras in which Fogerty and baseman Stu Cook and drummer Doug Clifford all contributed three tunes when John gave in to Stu and Doug’s demands for inclusion of their own songs. After that, John embarked on a solo career, with one really good album, the eponymous John Fogerty, and a pretty good album in Centerfield, plus a long string of good albums of country and rock and roll tunes that mostly strayed away from blues.

“Born on the Bayou” from their second album, the powerful Bayou Country, has that raw black country blues voice described earlier in this article. It’s only been a few years since I picked up Bayou Country and the feeling-their-way eponymous first album that contains a great cover of Screamin Jay Hawkins’ “I Put a Spell on You” and an 8-minute rendition of the rock and roll hit “Suzie Q” by Dale Hawkins. There’s a great live version of “Suzie Q” on the live album of their Woodstock performance, which was never included in the movie due to John Fogerty’s dissatisfaction with the lighting and equipment problems. Bayou Country explodes with their swamp rock sound in full maturity and full of assurance in their identity.

When I was just a little boy

Standin' to my Daddy's knee

My Papa said "Son, don't let the man get you

And do what he done to me.

'Cause he'll get you

'Cause he'll get ya now, now"

Well, I can remember the Fourth of July

Runnin' through the backwood bay

I can still hear my old hound dog barkin'

Chasin' down a hoodoo there

Born on the bayou

The third song on the album, “Graveyard Train,” is a dark, moody blues with a simple, restrained guitar and a primitive beat that makes me think of John Lee Hooker.

On the highway, thirty people lost their lives

Well, I had some words to holler

And my Rosie took a ride

In the moonlight, see the Greyhound rolling on

Flying through the crossroads

Rosie ran into the Hound

For the graveyard, thirty boxes made of bone

Mister Undertaker

Take this coffin from my home

In the midnight, hear me crying out her name

I'm standing on the railroad

Waiting for the graveyard train

On the highway, thirty people turned to stone

Oh, take me to the station

Because I'm number thirty-one

That’s about as dark a blues as the classic “St James Infirmary.” The primitive, restrained sound makes it the most powerful song on the album, and my second favorite, after “Proud Mary.” “Penthouse Pauper” is another strong blues with some great electric guitar. It’s one of those “struttin my stuff” bragging songs that closes with the truth of his situation.

If I were a secret

Lord, I never would be told

And if I were a jug of wine

Lord, my flavor would be old

I could be most anything

But it got to be 24 karat solid gold

If I were a gambler

You know, I'd never lose

If I were a guitar player

Lord, I'd have to play the blues . . .

And if I were a politician

I could prove that a monkey talk

You can find the tallest buildin'

Lord, I'd have me the house on top

I'm the penthouse pauper

I got nothing to my name

I'm the penthouse pauper, baby

I got nothing to my name

I can be most anything

Oh, when you got nothin', it's all the same

“Proud Mary” was a celebratory “let’s all get together and make music and dance” song about traveling on a Mississippi riverboat in joyous camaraderie that was notably covered by Tina Turner. It had a laid-back sound with a mellow electric guitar.

Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis

Pumped a lot of ‘pane [propane?] down in New Orleans

But I never saw the good side of the city

'Til I hitched a ride on that riverboat queen

Big wheel keep on turnin'

Proud Mary keep on burnin'

Rollin', rollin', rollin' on the river

If you come down to the river

Bet you gonna find some people who live

You don't have to worry 'cause you have no money

People on the river are happy to give

It’s a joyous, infectious song about poor people getting together around music and having good times. Fogerty said the guitar was based on the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, but he didn’t like Beethoven’s emphasis so he changed it to come down hard on the first note.

CCR was essentially a blues band at its core that consisted of John Fogerty with a pretty good rhythm section – bass, drums, and brother Tom’s rhythm guitar. “Proud Mary,” “Heard It through the Grapevine,” and “Who’ll Stop the Rain?” are probably the songs most people think of with CCR, but blues numbers like “Bad Moon Rising,” “Born on the Bayou,” “Penthouse Pauper,” “Graveyard Train,” “Sinister Purpose,” “Tombstone Shadow,” “I Put a Spell on You,” “Before You Accuse Me,” “My Baby Left Me,” “Midnight Special,” ”Cotton Fields,” “Run through the Jungle, and “Fortunate Son” made up the bulk of their recordings. Even their cover of the rock and roll hit ”Susie Q” is done as a blues number.

Tom Fogerty made three moderately successful solo albums before his untimely death at 49 from tuberculosis, one with Jerry Garcia in his backing band. Perhaps some of his songs would have enhanced CCR albums if they’d been included. He was later inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on his own. I didn’t buy his albums, but YouTube has many of his songs that reveal an instrumental, vocal, and lyrical talent that support his Hall of Fame status apart from his tenure in CCR. I never had his albums, but I listened to eight songs on YouTube, and they’re good rock and roll tunes with good lyrics and musicianship.

Even so, John Fogerty was the one who made CCR, a dominating genius who may not have been able to live within the constraints of an ensemble band like The Beatles or The Band. He might have made even better music with more talented backup like Van Morrison and Bob Dylan have had. But having the competent backing he did allowed him the freedom to be fully himself and blaze across the rock and roll sky the way he did. He was a comet who captured the American consciousness and its zeitgeist for four years, dominating the airwaves with a powerful voice that no one has ever matched in its uniqueness, solid and sometimes superb musicianship, and songs of substance that have stood the test of time. Bayou Country, Green River, Willie and the Poor Boys, and Cosmo's Factory were as good a string of albums as any rock musicians put out during that time. I think his lyrics were vastly underrated. I still listen to CCR often and never tire of hearing their albums.

Brett Nelson

The Beatles, Part One – Breaking the Molds

When the Beatles hit the airwaves in 1964 I wasn’t a fan. I was a high school junior and “I Want to Hold Your Hand” sounded like “bubble-gum music” to someone just getting acquainted with Bob Dylan songs through Peter, Paul, and Mary before I ever had a Dylan album. But I came around with the energy of the music and with lyrics like those in “Drive My Car,” “In My Life,” “If I Needed Someone,” “Yesterday,” and “Eleanor Rigby.” They had evolved as a band and as songwriters.

Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band broke on the music scene in 1967 like a startling sunrise, and we were delirious listening to it. It was like nothing we’d ever heard before, the way Highway 61 Revisited was two years before, but totally different from that. It opened up the gates for what music could sound like. Now it sounds dated, but we listened with expanded consciousness and our mouths hanging open for a year. What The Beatles had done for years that had everyone enthralled now seemed like a prologue, even though their music had evolved and grown with every year, especially with Rubber Soul and Revolver.

McCartney wrote in the liner notes that they made the album pretending that they were this other band made up of alter egos of themselves. Everything about Sgt Pepper’s was groundbreaking, from the cover art setting themselves in the midst of cultural icons going back as long as a hundred years or more, implying “This is how big we are,” to the dayglo suits and persona of a military band, to the alter-ego of the "Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band" (a good description of what they started out to be), to the album package with their photographs and the printed lyrics, to songs and lyrics that were experimental and at least interestingly different. The Rolling Stones tried to follow with Their Satanic Majesty’s Request, which was weak competition.

There are some memorable songs on the album. They’d evolved their music beyond “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “I Saw Her Standing There.“ “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” was a campy persona that sort of said “This is what we were, but we’re a whole new thing now.” The first verse starts out with a strong electric guitar accompanying Paul’s half-screaming lyrics over a raucous crowd, followed by a break with celebratory horns:

It was twenty years ago today

That Sergeant Pepper taught the band to play

They’ve been going in and out of style

But they’re guaranteed to raise a smile.

So may I introduce to you the act you’ve known for all these years?

Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!

The next two verses mellow out with a description that’s reminiscent of their enjoyment of fame and their audience over their first few years of popularity, which they’d emphatically left behind them when they stopped the insanity of touring and stadium concerts where they couldn’t even hear themselves over the deafening roar of screaming crowds and chose to become a strictly studio band.

We’re Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

We hope you will enjoy the show

We’re Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

Sit back and let the evening go.

Sergeant Pepper’s lonely, Sgt. Pepper’s lonely,

Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

It’s wonderful to be here. It’s certainly a thrill.

You’re such a lovely audience

We’d like to take you home with us.

We’d love to take you home.

It finishes with the final verse returning to the almost screaming introduction of the “band” and “the one and only Billy Shears and Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” with an invitation to sing along. Then the mood mellows down as Ringo sings a gentle “With a Little Help from My Friends,” perhaps speaking for the band in asking what their fans would do if The Beatles stopped being “The Beatles.”

What would you do if I sang out of tune?

Would you stand up and walk out on me?

Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song

And I’ll try not to sing out of key.

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends.

I get high with a little help from my friends.

Gonna try with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my love is away?

(Does it worry you to be alone?)

How do I feel by the end of the day?

(Are you sad because you’re on your own?)

No, I get by with a little help from my friends.

I get high with a little help from my friends.

Gonna try with a little help from my friends.

“Friends” seems to have a double meaning, that of drugs and also of each other. It's followed by the psychedelic “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” with John singing a tune that has his stamp on it.

Picture yourself in a boat on a river

With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.

Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly

A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

It’s a dreamscape that most listeners assumed was a description of a psychedelically induced state. It has interesting poetic images, but not much substance. Lennon said it was inspired by Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass and a drawing by his son. It sounds like it's accompanied by a high-pitched stringed instrument that I’m not familiar with, maybe a harpsichord, which adds a light, airy sound to the song. The poetry of “A girl with kaleidoscope eyes” is what has always stuck with me.

“She’s Leaving Home” is a melodrama evoking the sadness of a girl leaving her family at five o’clock in the morning “leaving the note that she hoped would say more.”

Stepping outside, she is free.

She (We gave her most of our lives.)

Is leaving (Sacrificed most of our lives.)

Home (We gave her ev’rything money could buy.)

She’s leaving home after living alone

for so many years. Bye, bye . . .

Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly?

How could she do this to me? . . .

She (We never thought of ourselves)

Is leaving (Never a thought for ourselves) . . .

Something inside that was always denied . . .

She’s leaving home, bye, bye

The mother’s laments sound like they’re stemming from guilt, self-centeredness, and resentment. The strings provide a soap-opera accompaniment as McCartney sings lead while Lennon chimes in on the mother’s complaints (in parentheses). Claiming they “never thought of ourselves,” she sounds like she’s only thinking of herself. “Bye, bye” is sung with a drippy, mocking tone that undercuts the sadness of parents having no emotional connection to their daughter. It’s not clear whether “Bye, bye” is the daughter’s voice or The Beatles’ voice, but most good art is ambiguous and open to interpretation.

“Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite” returns to the theme of show business entertainment expressed in “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band.” Lennon took inspiration from an 1843 poster advertising black entrepreneur Pablo Fanque’s circus, even taking lyrics directly off the poster. It’s accompanied by recorded calliope and harmonium music to give it a wild circus atmosphere with a circus barker’s pitch trying to create a surreal, hyped-up excitement.

For the benefit of Mr Kite

There will be a show tonight on trampoline

The Hendersons will all be there Late of Pablo Fanque’s Fair – What a scene!

Over men and horses, hoops and garters

Lastly through a hogshead of real fire!

In this way Mr K will challenge the world!

. . . And of course Henry the Horse dances the walz!

It’s catchy if shallow, but I would find the tune and lyrics running in my head frequently. The songs that I loved on Sgt Peppers and often replayed in my head were the lighthearted “When I’m Sixty-Four” and “Lovely Rita.” There’s no self-pity or dread in the first, only the lighthearted, humble hope that his love will stick by him when he’s not the young man he is now. The humor is delightful, with clarinet and perhaps other woodwinds accompanying Lennon’s singing.

When I get older, losing my hair

Many years from now

Will you still be sending me a valentine

Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?

If I’d been out till quarter to three

Would you lock the door?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me

When I’m sixty four?

You’ll be older too.

And if you say the word, I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse

When your lights have gone.

You can knit a sweater by the fireside

Sunday mornings, go for a ride.

Doing the garden, digging the weeds

Who could ask for more?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me

When I’m sixty four?

“Lovely Rita” has Lennon singing lighthearted lyrics, wooing Rita in a right proper and respectful way. I wonder if he was consciously writing in his Sgt Pepper’s Band persona in both these songs. Perhaps they were a pose, but they’re infectious and delightful songs regardless.

Standing by a parking meter

When I caught a glimpse of Rita

Filling in a ticket in her little white book.

In a cap she looked much older

And the bag across her shoulder

Made her look a little like a milit’ry man.

Lovely Rita, meter maid

May I enquire discreetly

“When are you free to take some tea with me?”

Took her out and tried to win her

Had a laugh, and over dinner

Told her I would really like to see her again.

Got the bill and Rita paid it

Took her home, I nearly made it

Sitting on the sofa with a sister or two.

Oh, lovely Rita, meter maid

Where would I be without you?

Give us a wink and make me think of you.

“Within You, Without You” is Harrison’s dreamy spiritual meditation playing sitar with other Indian musicians playing tabla drums and other Indian instruments in a criticism of Western materialism with an invitation to a more spiritual life, with a bit of condescension. “We're not trying to outwit the public. The whole idea is to try a little bit to lead people into different tastes.” – George Harrison, 1967.

We were talking – about the space between us all.

And the people – who hide themselves

behind a wall of illusion.

Never glimpse the truth – then it’s far

too late – when they pass away.

Magical Mystery Tour was a lackluster album composed of songs from the soundtrack of a film with the same title, including the gem “The Fool on the Hill,” plus other Beatles studio cuts, including the McCartney’s irresistible “Penny Lane,” Lennon’s psychedelic “Strawberry Fields Forever,” and the utopian “All You Need Is Love.”

The major followup from Sgt Pepper’s was The Beatles, referred to as the White Album due to it’s blank white cover. Abandoning the technical and classical/avant-garde experimentation of Sgt Pepper’s, it was a two-record set of songs in wildly varying styles that kept me off-balance but fascinated from song to song. It didn’t get quite the critical praise like Sgt Pepper’s initially, but most of the critical reaction was good, some of it effusive. Even critics who praised it disagreed emphatically on what songs were good and what weren’t. Later opinion has rated it more highly.

In my mind it’s The Beatles’ crowning achievement, even though it was apparently made with a great deal of strife and internal conflict between all of them. Later, John commented that "Every track is an individual track; there isn't any Beatle music on it . . . John and the band, Paul and the band, George and the band." It was criticized as a collection of unrelated solo tracks. It’s been described as a survey of the whole range of American/British music of the 20th century, including rock and roll, blues, country, folk, reggae, avant-garde, hard rock, British music hall, and psychedelic music. There’s no consistent style at all, and yet it’s always seemed like a hodgepodge that somehow hangs together on its own unique terms. Its shifts are surprising and interesting, making me listen to each song on its own terms.

The album starts off with a takeoff on Chuck Berry’s “Back in the USA” titled “Back in the USSR” with a different melody and rhythm. It starts with the roar of a jet engine before Ringo’s breakneck drum pace moves it into straight up high energy rock and roll with McCartney singing as a patriotic Russian. “I’m back in the USSR/You don’t know how lucky you are, boy/Back in the US Back in the US Back in the USSR.” It sounded like giving the finger at the anti-communist sentiment of the period, but it does say “Back in the US Back in the US” before switching to “USSR.” The album then moves into the mellow and languid “Dear Prudence” with Lennon entreating a shy and introverted woman to “come out and play,” said to be written about Mia Farrow’s sister in India. It’s a beautiful melody and a pleasant listen.

“Dear Prudence” is followed by “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da” a McCartney tune that Lennon later called “granny music shit,” an indication of the sort of animosities generated while making the album. I think it’s a delightful, lighthearted song that’s always fun to listen to. Desmond falls in love with a singer named Molly and they marry.

In a couple of years, they have built a home, sweet home

With a couple of kids running in the yard

Of Desmond and Molly Jones (Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha)

Happy ever after in the marketplace

Desmond lets the children lend a hand

Molly stays at home and does her pretty face

And in the evening, she still sings it with the band

Yes, ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Life goes on, brah

La-la, how the life goes on

Yeah, ob-la-di, ob-la-da

Life goes on, brah

La-la, how the life goes on

In a couple of years, they have built a home sweet home

With a couple of kids running in the yard

Of Desmond and Molly Jones (Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha)

Happy ever after in the marketplace

Molly lets the children lend a hand

Desmond stays at home and does his pretty face

And in the evening, she's a singer with the band

I always took Desmond doing “his pretty face” as simply a swipe at gender stereotypes, nothing more. “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill” satirizes the American (and perhaps British) identification of hunting with masculinity, with a takeoff on Buffalo Bill.

Hey, Bungalow Bill

What did you kill

Bungalow Bill?

He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun

In case of accident he always took his mum

The All-American bullet-headed Saxon mother’s son

George Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” is the strongest song on the album:

I look at you all see the love there that’s sleeping

While my guitar gently weeps

. . . I don’t know why nobody told you how to unfold your love

I don’t know how someone controlled you

They bought and sold you

I look at the world and I notice it’s turning

While my guitar gently weeps

With every mistake we must surely be learning

Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know how you were diverted

You were perverted too

I don’t know how you were inverted

No one alerted you

Harrison initially played it with acoustic guitar, but the other Beatles were resistant, so he asked friend Eric Clapton to record an electric guitar part, which became the final version. Harrison was no slouch on electric guitar – Rolling Stone in two separate ratings of the 100 greatest guitarists put him at 11th and 18th. Harrison and Clapton traded lead guitar lines in later performances together. The song conveys a deep sadness at the lack of love and compassion we have for each other. It’s Harrison that’s weeping. It’s one of The Beatles’ best, most moving songs.

“Martha, My Dear” is a lovely, humble entreaty to a woman to “Don’t forget me” and “you’re bound to see/that you and me were meant to be/for each other.” The “White Album” was said to be The Beatles’ effort to explore all the genres of American and British popular music of the 20th century. I don’t know what the British music hall genre is, but maybe this song is it. It starts with a cheery rhythm on piano, then adds a tuba and other horns. It’s a lighthearted love song that sounds as if Lennon and McCartney are singing together, but it sounds like the kind of McCartney “silly love song” he was often panned for.

“Blackbird” is McCartney’s invitation to black people to claim their rightful place in the world. It’s a simple, very moving lyric and music that’s been covered by many others. It’s heartfelt and sincere. Bettye LaVette sang it in first person in her early 2000s comeback after having a rock and roll hit in the 60s, in first person – “I was only waiting for this moment to be free.”

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night

“Piggies” is Harrison’s satire on the “bigger piggies” rapacious chase after wealth on the backs of “little piggies.” The significance of the word “bacon” implying a metaphorical cannibalism only just occurred to me in writing this.

Have you seen the little piggies

Crawling in the dirt

And for all the little piggies

Life is getting worse . . .

Everywhere there’s lots of piggies

Living piggy lives

You can see them out for dinner

With their piggy wives

Clutching forks and knives

To eat their bacon

“Rocky Racoon” is a playful western melodrama about a “young boy named Rocky Racoon” and his attempt at revenge for someone stealing his girl. It starts out with McCartney speaking the first verse in an adenoidal voice with some sort of southern drawl, accompanied by a simple acoustic guitar. Then he switches to a normal voice in the second:

Rocky Raccoon checked into his room

Only to find Gideon's bible

Rocky had come equipped with a gun

To shoot off the legs of his rival

His rival it seems had broken his dreams

By stealing the girl of his fancy

Her name was Magill and she called herself Lil

But everyone knew her as Nancy

Now she and her man who called himself Dan

Were in the next room at the hoedown

Rocky burst in and grinning a grin

He said Danny boy this is a showdown

But Daniel was hot – he drew first and shot

And Rocky collapsed in the corner

Now the doctor came in stinking of gin

And proceeded to lie on the table

He said Rocky you met your match

But Rocky said, doc it's only a scratch

And I'll be better, I'll be better doc as soon as I am able

Now Rocky Raccoon fell back in his room

Only to find Gideon's bible

Gideon checked out and he left it no doubt

To help with good Rocky's revival

It's a western movie parody that at the same time engages your sympathy for Rocky in spite of his violent intention, perhaps because of its horse opera nature. I love the song for the character of Rocky and for its campy, comic book story with the western theme of the hero getting shot and saying “doc, it’s only a scratch,” and the humor of the doctor coming in “stinking of gin,” so drunk he collapses on a table. Rocky’s the irresistible hero. There’s a nice little harmonica break toward the end. It’s just a fun song to listen to that I’ve loved from the first time I heard it, like Bob Dylan’s “Million Dollar Bash.” What he did was take a lightweight novelty song with a little humor, a drunk doctor and Gideon’s bible (”Gideon checked out/And he left it no doubt/To help with good Rocky’s revival”) and turn it into a mini-novel where you fall in love with the hero and root for him and love his optimism that he’ll be OK.

“I Will” is a beautiful McCartney love song with a lovely melody and simple accompaniment on what sounds like some high-register guitar or keyboard instrument. It’s followed by Lennon’s “Julia,” a more subdued song that he said was a tribute to his mother, killed in a car crash in 1958. It’s a dreamy reverie that’s full of feeling and a very pleasant listen. “Honey Pie” was a 1920s style flapper era song that sounded like Rudy Vallee. It’s lightweight but delightful to listen to. I don’t think The Beatles ever lost the sense of the absurdity of their fame or McCartney couldn’t have written “You became a legend on the silver screen/And now the thought of meeting you makes me weak in the knees.”

“Mother Nature’s Son” is McCartney’s beautiful short ballad paying homage to the natural world:

Born a poor young country boy – Mother Nature’s son

All day long I’m sitting singing songs for everyone . . .

Find me in my field of grass – Mother Nature’s son

Swaying daisies sing a lazy song beneath the sun

McCartney’s “Helter Skelter” is intense, hard rock, almost sounding like heavy metal.

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

And I stop and I turn and I go for a ride

And I get to the bottom and I see you again

Well do you, don’t you want me to make you

I’m coming down fast but don’t let me break you

Tell me tell me tell me the answer

You may be a lover but you ain’t no dancer

It’s an exhilarating song that sounds like someone on speed, exciting to listen to, but not too often. Wikipedia says “helter skelter” is the British name for a spiral slide found on playgrounds. Who would have thought? The song is followed by Harrison’s “Long, Long, Long,” a gorgeous, dreamy song expressing his “exhausted, relieved reconciliation with God,” whatever “God” meant to him, according to author Ian McDonald. It has restrained guitars and an interesting, intermittent heavy drumbeat by Ringo between verses.

Sgt Peppers and The Beatles broke the molds for pop/rock music as the 60s faded, as much as Dylan’s Highway 61 did in 1965. Sgt Peppers was a concept album with several songs that had nothing to do with the concept except for musical experimentation. Even though The Beatles was a hodgepodge of seemingly unrelated songs, it somehow all made sense as an expression of all their various musical inclinations and capabilities, and as a history of 20th century American and British pop music styles. Both albums were audaciously experimental in different ways and courageous musical adventures. I still think The Beatles was the zenith of The Beatles’ music.

Brett Nelson

The Beatles, Part Two – There Went the Sun

Sgt Peppers and The Beatles (“the White Album”) set a bar that was hard to follow. Although The Beatles first made an album initially called Get Back which would later be released as Let It Be, they released Abbey Road first. Though I liked it, it was frustrating to listen to a medley of less than two minute songs followed by “The End” at 2:05. I was disappointed that songs I liked were so briefly there and gone. Only two out of the eleven songs on side two were over three minutes. But I still liked the album, and it’s grown on me over the years to become my favorite Beatles album.

George Harrison grew as a songwriter with “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” and “Long, Long, Long” and had two of the best three songs on Abbey Road with “Here Comes the Sun” and “Something,” which was covered by over 150 artists, including Frank Sinatra, who mistakenly called it his favorite Lennon/McCartney song. Sinatra also called it “the greatest love song of the last 50 years.” Lennon thought it was the best song on the album and McCartney said it was his favorite Harrison song. Several critics praised it as having Harrison’s finest guitar playing.

The album starts with Lennon’s “Come Together,” which was catchy but weird for me: “Hold you in his arms, yeah/You can feel his disease.” It’s followed by “Something,” which soars with a wonderful melody and some of Harrison’s best guitar playing, then McCartney’s amusing “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.” Then comes “Oh, Darling,” a rock and roller that’s one of McCartney’s best screamers where his voice breaks and drops at the end of a line with a Buddy Holley hiccup. It’s as passionately intense as anything of McCartney’s I’ve ever heard.

Ringo pitches in with the lighthearted “Octopus’s Garden,” an entertaining fantasy that tickled me like a kid. I wondered if he composed it as a song for his kids. It seems to sort of fit with “Yellow Submarine.” Side two begins with “Here Comes the Sun,” which is almost impossible to not sing along with. The guitar part is just a beautiful ride that runs over and over in my head after every time I listen to it.

“You Never Give Me Your Money” is a four-minute McCartney tune with the tempo changes that became common in McCartney’s solo work and with Wings (“Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” and “Band on the Run”). It starts slow with a piano accompaniment and prominent drumbeat in a ballad mode voicing the sadness of missed communication as each “break[s] down,” then it speeds up with a rocking rhythm lamenting that “All the money’s gone, nowhere to go,” then slowing down again to wonder where the “magic feeling” went. Then it speeds up again as they escape in a limousine saying “What a sweet dream/Came true today.” How “all the money’s gone” fits with escaping in a limousine is anybody’s guess. But it’s a song I love.

You never give me your money

You only give me your funny paper

And in the middle of negotiations

You break down

I never give you my number

I only give you my situation

And in the middle of investigation

I break down

Out of college, money spent

See no future, pay no rent

All the money's gone, nowhere to go

At a job I got the sack

Monday morning, turning back

Yellow lorry slow, nowhere to go

But oh, that magic feeling

Nowhere to go

Oh, that magic feeling

Nowhere to go

Ah, ah, ah

What a sweet dream

Pick up the bags and get in the limousine

Soon we'll be away from here

Step on the gas and wipe that tear away

What a sweet dream

Came true today . . .

Yes it did

After the mellow “The Sun King,” the rest of the album is taken up with a medley of two short Lennon songs and a string of McCartney tunes, all between one and two minutes long. I love “She Came in through the Bathroom Window,” written after a fan actually did that to get into Paul’s house. Harrison, plays wonderful electric guitar fills between lines and verses, and Ringo’s drumming is tasty as always without showing off.

She came in through the bathroom window

Protected by a silver spoon

But now she sucks her thumb and wanders

By the banks of her own lagoon

Didn't anybody tell her?

Didn't anybody see?

Sunday's on the phone to Monday

Tuesday's on the phone to me

She said she'd always been a dancer

She worked at 15 clubs a day

And though she thought I knew the answer

Well I knew but I could not say

And so I quit the police department

And got myself a steady job

And though she tried her best to help me

She could steal but she could not rob.

They’re intriguing lyrics: she seems to change identities. How does “protected by a silver spoon” fit with being a dancer working at “fifteen clubs a day?” Who could imagine Paul McCartney stealing, let alone robbing? But most folk and rock musicians identify themselves with outlaws, from Woody Guthrie to Dylan to McCartney, including “Band on the Run.”

“Golden Slumbers” is half all-out wail and half gentle lullaby. It starts soft, goes to almost screaming, then ends with the lullaby singing a child to sleep. And I love how both parts fit together. I just wished both these songs were longer.

“Carry That Weight” starts briefly with “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight/Carry that weight a long time,” the horns move in with the melody of “You Never Give Me Your Money” with new lyrics and a guitar solo by George: “I never give you my pillow/I only send you my invitation/ And in the middle of the celebration/I break down.” Only a minute and a half, the four Beatles sing together on this, as Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison did on “Because” and “Sun King.” I love Harrison’s guitar playing on these late albums when he asserted his own style instead of letting McCartney and Lennon influence how he played. He rarely plays fast with a lot of notes like Clapton, but he plays with a wonderful expressiveness, like a smooth Robbie Robertson.

“The End” is rock and roll driven by Ringo’s great drumming as almost a lead instrument, with Harrison coming in on a great guitar solo until it slows down with a light piano to assert that “And in the end/The love you take/Is equal to/The love you make” before finishing with Ringo’s drumming and another brief electric guitar fill by Harrison. It’s an intriguing statement to ponder. “The End” is followed by “Good Night,” a lovely lullaby by John, reportedly written for his son Julian but also sounding like he’s saying good night for The Beatles.

Now it's time to say good night

Good night, sleep tight

Now the sun turns out his light

Good night, sleep tight

Dream sweet dreams for me (Dream sweet)

Dream sweet dreams for you

Close your eyes and I'll close mine

Good night, sleep tight

Now the moon begins to shine

Good night, sleep tight

Dream sweet dreams for me (Dream sweet)

Dream sweet dreams for you

Good night, good night, everybody

Everybody everywhere

Good night

The album ends with the lovely and brisk “Her Majesty,” an apparent homage to The Queen:

I imagine she’s a pretty nice girl

But she doesn't have a lot to say

I imagine she’s a pretty nice girl

But she changes from day to day

I wanna tell her that I love her a lot

But I gotta get a belly full of wine

I imagine she’s a pretty nice girl

Someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah

Someday I'm gonna make her mine.

Ultimately I learned to enjoy the medley for what it is, as a medley. Though I think the “White Album” is their best, I enjoy listening to Abbey Road now more than any other Beatles album.

Let It Be, originally titled Get Back and recorded before Abbey Road, was released in May of 1970. It sold well but had a very mixed critical reception, more negative than positive. Opinion has been more favorable over time, though. I liked it a lot from the beginning. I think I saw the movie with the unannounced performance from Apple Studio’s rooftop before I got the album.

The album starts off with “Two of Us,” an engaging Lennon and McCartney duet. It’s hard to know which songs are more Lennon or more McCartney because they’re all signed Lennon/McCartney, but even though a duet this sounds like a Lennon song to me. Accompanied by a slapping drum rhythm and a couple of understated acoustic guitars, it paints a picture of two people driving in the country with no particular destination, enjoying each other’s company and heading for home.

You and me Sunday driving

Not arriving

On our way back home

We're on our way home

We're going home

Two of us sending postcards

Writing letters

On my wall

You and me burning matches

Lifting latches

On our way back home

We're on our way home

We're going home

You and I have memories

Longer than the road that stretches out ahead

Lennon’s “Across the Universe” is a slow and dreamy, mystical tune with some beautiful poetry in it.

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup

They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind

Possessing and caressing me

Jai Guru Deva, Om

Nothing's gonna change my world

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes

They call me on and on across the universe

Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box

They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe

The song’s accompaniment has a simple acoustic guitar, backed with strings orchestrated by the famous or infamous Phil Spector. Lennon and Harrison had brought him in because of the supposed poor quality of the recording. It’s a tune with a slow serene melody and a very pleasant one to listen to, but McCartney hated the result. I don’t hear anything problematic with the guitar accompaniment and the singing, so I’m not sure what Lennon and Harrison didn’t like. The album was later reissued without strings as Let It Be … Naked.

“I’ve Got a Feeling” is a lazy rocker with McCartney singing the first two minutes, then Lennon comes in for two verses. It finishes with Lennon and McCartney weaving his lyrics around Lennon’s. It’s like they blended two songs with different lyrics into one with an infectious result. Harrison weaves good guitar lines around the lyrics that gives the song some drive.

I've got a feeling, a feeling deep inside (McCartney)

Oh yeah, oh yeah, that's right

I've got a feeling, a feeling I can't hide

Oh no, no, oh no, oh no

Yeah, I've got a feeling

All these years I've been wandering around

Wondering how come nobody told me

All that I've been looking for was somebody

Who looked like you

I've got a feeling that keeps me on my toes

Oh yeah, oh yeah

I've got a feeling I think that everybody knows

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Yeah, yeah I've got a feeling, yeah, yeah

Everybody had a hard year (Lennon)

Everybody had a good time

Everybody had a wet dream

Everybody saw the sunshine

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

Everybody had a good year

Everybody let their hair down

Everybody pulled their socks up

Everybody put their foot down

Oh yeah

(M) (I've got a feeling)

(L) Everybody had a good year

(M) (A feeling deep inside)

(L) Everybody had a hard time

(M) (Oh yeah)

(L) Everybody had a wet dream

(M) (Oh yeah)

(L) Everybody saw the sunshine

(I've got a feeling)

Everybody had a good year

(A feeling I can't hide)

Everybody let their hair down

(Oh no)

Everybody pulled their socks up

(Oh no no)

Everybody put their foot down, oh yeah

Harrison contributes a sweet and laid-back love song on “For You Blue” with John Lennon playing a funky lap-held slide guitar.

I've loved you from the moment I saw you

You looked at me that's all you had to do

I feel it now I hope you feel it too

Because you're sweet and lovely girl I love you

Because you're sweet and lovely girl it's true

I love you more than ever girl I do

“The One After 909” is a rock and roll song from 1960 or earlier. It gets a great treatment on Let It Be that gets under your skin as it tells the story of a boy chasing a girl who missed the 9:09 train but caught the next one. It’s a raucous number with Harrison’s lead guitar and what sounds like rhythm guitar backed by a jumpy, energetic electric piano.

My baby says she's traveling on the one after 909

I said move over honey I'm traveling on that line

I said move over once, move over twice

Come on baby, don't be cold as ice

Said she's traveling on the one after 909

I begged her not to go and I begged her on my bended knees

You’re only foolin round, only foolin round with me

I said move over once, move over twice

Come on baby, don't be cold as ice

She said she's traveling on the one after 909

Picked up my bag, run to the station

Railman says you got the wrong location

Picked up the bag, run right home

Then I find I got the number wrong

Both “One After 909” and “Get Back” are great, high energy rock and roll like Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Bo Diddley tunes.

In contrast, “Let It Be” is an unhurried ballad with a churchy organ backing by Billy Preston and a soulful guitar solo and fills by Harrison. To me “Let It Be” is the best thing McCartney ever recorded, maybe my favorite Beatles song ever. The lyrics express the timeless wisdom of how to be at peace with oneself and the life one has. Change what you can for the better, but don’t beat your head against the wall hanging on to regrets and frustrations about things that are out of your control, the surest route to an unhappy life. But it isn’t just advice and philosophizing. It’s a powerful emotional expression from his heart. I assumed he must be harking back to a Catholic upbringing with “Mother Mary comes to me,” but he once said in an interview the reference was instead to his mother.

In the movie Let It Be he sings both “Let It Be” and “Long and Winding Road” in a full screen shot of his face with such sincerity and genuineness that I think they’re the closest expressions of his emotional core in all his music, far more than even “Yesterday.” They’re the best things on the album, notwithstanding the great rock and roll of “Get Back” and “The One after 909.”

Lennon was the utopian moralist and idealist philosopher with a trippy imagination. (“Imagine all the people/Living life in peace/You may say I'm a dreamer/But I'm not the only one,” and “Last night the wife said/Oh, boy, when you’re dead/You can’t take nothin with you but your soul”) McCartney was like a kid in a Montessori School on play day, with free rein to make whatever he felt like, creating narrative songs telling stories with characters from his fertile imagination like little novellettes: “Eleanor Rigby,” “Penny Lane,” “She Came in through the Back Room Window,” “Rocky Racoon,” and “Get Back.”

Brett Nelson