The Beatles: Past Masters

Past Masters by the BeatlesIt’s almost impossible to believe, yet it remains true: You can compile a multi-disc Greatest Hits of the Beatles without including a single song from any of their albums. Such is the case with Past Masters, the collected singles, EPs, B-sides, and random tracks that never made it onto the band’s proper LPs. Most of the songs included did appear on the American versions of their albums, which cannibalized their singles to appear as hooks for the record buyer, but those LPs were creations of Capitol Records, not the band. The Beatles, and they were not the only act to have this opinion, believed that if you included singles on LPs you were ripping off the fans by getting them to buy the same music twice. It was really quite common in the mid-Sixties for an English band’s albums to be remarkably different than their American releases.

The Beatles, however, were a cut above. They were so prolific that they were churning out singles and EPs every couple of months, with a yearly (or sometimes twice yearly) LP release. Their musical output, driven by an insatiable demand, dwarfed the rest of the music scene by a large margin. Not only were they putting out a seemingly endless stream of new music, they were doing so at an astonishingly high level of quality. It was truly as if they didn’t want to be associated with anything mediocre or worse.

The singles, and the Past Masters collection, begins with “Love Me Do,” their moderately successful first single from 1962. Unbeknownst to most fans at the time, and even today, the single was a different version than the album track. The “Love Me Do” that appears on the Please Please Me album doesn’t feature Ringo Starr on drums. After the Pete Best debacle, George Martin brought in a professional studio drummer named Andy White to play instead of the unproven Ringo, who was relegated to tambourine. The version on Past Masters is the single version of the song, with Ringo on drums. It is, of course, a charming pop song circa the early Sixties (ironically, the pre-Beatles Sixties). There’s nothing much to the song except some nice harmonica and a good vocal hook. The lyrics are pretty bad, the instrumentation simple. There was no hint of what was to come.

From there Past Masters explodes with a dazzling string of singles from the effervescent “From Me to You” and “Thank You Girl” to the majestic “She Loves You” and “I Want To Hold Your Hand.” These last two songs, and their B-sides, “I’ll Get You” and the extraordinary harmonies of “This Boy,” are where the Beatle legend, and true Beatlemania, begins. “She Loves You” is the first Beatles track to use the trick of starting the song with the chorus, an instant ear worm that grabs the listener from the first seconds and demands full attention be paid. “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” co-written by Lennon and McCartney in the basement of Paul’s girlfriend’s (Jane Asher) house was the shot heard around the world, especially in America where it soared to the top of the charts and took up residence there until it was replaced by an American reissue of “She Loves You.” Released in America just before the assassination of John F. Kennedy, “I Want to Hold Your Hand” caught fire in the weeks following that national tragedy. The timing couldn’t have been better. When America was reeling and mourning, a propulsive song filled with the joy and wonder of new romance exploded onto the airwaves. Thousands of people lined up at the newly rechristened John F. Kennedy Airport in New York to welcome the long-haired lads from Liverpool. America was the last great step for the Beatles to assume musical world dominance.

Those two singles are followed on Past Masters by “Komm Gibb Mir Deine Hand” and “Sie Liebt Dich,” which featured the band singing “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “She Loves You” in German, done to recognize their fans in Germany, the first country where the Beatles began to really make a name for themselves. It was released as a single in Germany.

In England, the band released an EP called Long Tall Sally. Since there was no market for EPs in America, these songs were processed as album tracks on a “new” unauthorized American-only album. Paul McCartney’s frenetic take on Little Richard’s “Long Tall Sally,” plus covers of “Slow Down” and “Matchbox” and the sole Lennon-McCartney track, the excellent “I Call Your Name” comprised the EP.

The band closed out 1964 with one of their best early singles, “I Feel Fine” backed with “She’s A Woman.” Both songs are fine rockers, the former one of the first (if not the first) songs to feature guitar feedback on record. Before Jeff Beck’s “Shapes of Things,” before Pete Townshend’s “My Generation,” and long before Jimi Hendrix turned feedback into art, John Lennon’s song starts with a single guitar note followed by a blast of feedback. The song ends with dogs barking very faintly in the fade-out. “She’s A Woman” is Paul’s contribution, featuring one of his best early vocals.

“Bad Boy,” a racing cover of a Larry Williams song, was included on the American-only Beatles VI in early 1965. That’s correct. In the span of 1964 Capitol Records had milked the Beatles three official albums (With the Beatles, A Hard Day’s Night, and Beatles for Sale), combined with the Long Tall Sally EP and the singles to release five albums in America. “Bad Boy” was really sort of the exception. It was released only in America until it turned up on a British greatest hits album (A Collection of Oldies But Goldies).

The first disc of Past Masters closes with two B-sides, the soaring “Yes It Is” which was the flip side of “Ticket To Ride” and the breakneck “plastic soul” of “I’m Down,” the flip of “Help!” “I’m Down” was never released on an album, even in England, and remained a lost track until it resurfaced in the 1970s on the Rock and Roll Music compilation. It remains a criminally unknown song, featuring one of Paul’s best vocals ever, wherein he beats his idol Little Richard at his own game.

The second disc of Past Masters also aligns neatly with the sudden maturity exhibited by the band. The early Beatles are now done and locked in the history books. Disc two begins with 1966’s “Day Tripper”/”We Can Work It Out” followed by one of the greatest singles of all time, “Paperback Writer”/”Rain”. While “We Can Work It Out” contained much of McCartney’s trademark sunny optimism, it’s tempered by Lennon’s bridge, which reminds the listener that “life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting”. But it’s “Day Tripper” that ushers in a newer, heavier sound. Featuring a riff that Jimi Hendrix loved, and a lyric that’s simultaneously about drugs (in this case, LSD) and a very, um, frustrating woman (“she’s a big teaser/she took me half the way there” isn’t particularly subtle innuendo). “Paperback Writer” and “Rain” upped the ante, with both sides of the single being blasts of loud guitars and even louder bass from McCartney, heavily influenced by Motown savant Funk Brother James Jamerson. The production on these two songs is absolutely pristine. Despite the wall-of-sound nature of the songs, every instrument can be heard as clearly as if the band was standing in the room with you. Paul’s bass on “Rain” is particularly prominent and particularly good. It’s one of the great bass guitar recordings in rock and likely the first where that rhythm instrument is so loud in the mix, almost assuming lead duties. “Rain” also gets the nod for having the first backwards vocals on a pop or rock record.

In 1967 the Beatles singles were added to the English Magical Mystery Tour EP to create the album of the same name. This was the last time Capitol Records would rearrange the band’s output to make a few extra bucks. Since then, the American album Magical Mystery Tour has become so loved it was made canon in 1987 with the arrival of the Beatles on CD. As a result of that move, Past Masters does not include what were originally released as singles only: “Strawberry Fields Forever”/”Penny Lane”, “All You Need Is Love”/”Baby You’re A Rich Man” and “Hello, Goodbye” the A-side of “I Am the Walrus.”

The collection picks up again in 1968 with “Lady Madonna”/”The Inner Light”. The A-side is a rollicking, piano-pounding, Fats Domino-inspired number. The latter is one of George’s India-influenced sitar songs. “The Inner Light” has never been released on a Beatles album with the exception of Rarities in 1980. It’s a (mercifully) brief song that at least includes a backing vocal from John and Paul, a rarity on George’s India songs.

As good as “Lady Madonna” was, it held no comparison to the genius run of singles the Beatles had released since “Day Tripper” that included “Strawberry Fields,” “Penny Lane” and “I Am the Walrus” among others. The band had an ace up their sleeve with the next single, a song written by Paul as consolation for John’s son, Julian, as his parents were getting divorced. “Hey Jude” ended up being the most successful single the Beatles ever released, but in some ways that’s surprising. At the time it was the longest song ever released as a single, beating Dylan’s trailblazing “Like A Rolling Stone” by a full minute. The Beatles felt confident releasing such a long song (over seven minutes) because they knew there was no way the radio wouldn’t play it. Another reason its hit status was surprising is that the last four minutes of the song are given over to a mostly wordless chorus comprised of the band singing “Na na na na na na na hey Jude” over and over again. Not exactly hit material, that. What saves the fadeout from being boring is McCartney’s howling vocal interjections done in his best Little Richard voice while the music, complete with a 36-piece orchestra, builds inexorably around him. That’s hit material.

In the late summer of 1968 “Hey Jude” was pouring out of radio stations and jukeboxes everywhere, slamming into the number one slot and staying there for several weeks. Equally outstanding was the B-side, “Revolution.” This was the first time the Beatles were explicitly political in a song at a time when the New Left was rising in both America and Britain, and calls for revolution were dominating in political songs. Of course, the Beatles did it differently by making “Revolution” a song that was directly opposed to the rhetoric coming out of organizations like the Black Panthers and bands like Jefferson Airplane. “But when you talk about destruction/Don’t you know that you can count me out,” John sings over a wall of heavy, distorted guitars. Lennon did want it both ways, however. In both the video for the song and the slower, more acoustic version recorded for the White Album, he changes the lyric to “count me out…in.”

The band was fraying around the edges at this point in their career. In January of 1969, less than two months after the release of their 30-song self-titled opus, the band was back in the studio. Under enormous pressure to write and record a new album and then do a single live show, the fraying got worse. George Harrison even quit at one point (memorializing the moment in his diary by writing “left the Beatles.”) George was back a few days later, and the band continued. There were some great ideas for songs floating around, but they simply couldn’t seem to get it together to bring the ideas to their full potential. The exception was their next single, “Get Back”/”Don’t Let Me Down.” The latter song was brought to the sessions by John, a heart-rending plea from a very insecure man to his new lover. The A-side of the single was created completely in the studio. There is a part in Peter Jackson’s extraordinary documentary look at these session, Get Back, where McCartney is heard playing around on guitar. The chords he’s riffing on have no words attached and are sort of formless, but gradually they begin to take shape and McCartney begins extemporizing mostly nonsense lyrics. It’s a fascinating process watching the song “Get Back” being written right before your eyes. The single was released in April of 1969, after the Beatles had given up recording the album they’d started in January. The version of “Get Back” that appears on Past Masters is a completely different mix than the version that would eventually appear on the album Let It Be.

The next single reflected where the Beatles were at that moment. Released only one month after “Get Back”, “The Ballad of John and Yoko”/”Old Brown Shoe” features a Ringo-less band. Since Ringo was taking some time away to work on the Peter Sellers film “The Magic Christian,” George Harrison’s “Old Brown Shoe” was recorded with McCartney on drums. The real question is, “Who plays bass?” The song features a very McCartney-esque bass line but George always maintained that it was he who played the bass. My money’s on McCartney. The galloping bass line is too loud, too busy without being overwhelming. Harrison was a fine guitarist, but there’s nothing in his entire recorded output that suggests he could play the bass in a fashion even approximating his Beatle bandmate, one of the best bass players in the rock era. George sings and plays guitar and organ on the track, with John on piano.

Similarly, “The Ballad of John and Yoko,” was completed without the missing Ringo but also without George. Written and recorded in one day, this was the last Beatles song to be done exclusively for a single and features John on vocals and guitar and Paul on bass, drums, and vocals. The song is far from being a ballad. It’s a brisk rocker that tells the story of John and Yoko’s wedding and subsequent honeymoon with all of Lennon’s trademark wit and humor. Paul’s drumming is particularly good. As Beatle singles go, “The Ballad of John and Yoko”/”Old Brown Shoe” is one of their lesser efforts as enjoyable as it might be. It simply doesn’t stand up against any of the singles they’d released since “She Loves You” started their run of genius work. Still, it’s a fun couple of songs.

The next Beatles single was not actually released by the band. “Across the Universe” was a song John had given to the World Wildlife Fund for a charity album called No One’s Gonna Change My World. It’s largely a throwaway collection of songs featuring The Beatles, the Hollies, and assorted C-list and D-list acts, which makes “Across the Universe” shine even brighter. Marrying one of Lennon’s best ever lyrics to a gorgeous melody, and overdubbed with the sound of a flock of birds, this is a remarkably different, and better, song than the one that appears on the album Let It Be. The song was recorded in early 1968 and was originally considered to be the B-side to “Lady Madonna” but was shelved until Lennon gave it away.

The Beatles broke up in April of 1970, when a staggeringly passive-aggressive McCartney released a phony interview where he told the world that he didn’t see working with John ever again. One month prior, the Beatles sent their parting shot to the music world with the release of the single “Let It Be”/”You Know My Name (Look Up the Number).” The A-side really requires no explanation. It’s a very different mix than the one that would show up two months later on the album of the same name. The overdubs are largely absent and the guitar solo is wildly different. The B-side, however, was…something else entirely. The basic track was originally recorded in 1967, and included The Rolling Stones guitarist Brian Jones playing a saxophone. Vocals were added in April of 1969. The entire song is an extended joke, with John and Paul using funny voices mostly repeating the titular phrase over disjointed music. It’s not something most Beatle fans listen to on repeat. It’s not even something that most Beatle fans have even heard. It is, however, a wonderfully idiosyncratic, humorous goof that reminds the listeners that the Beatles were, above all, fun.

From October 1962 to March 1970, just seven and a half years, the Beatles released a mind-blowing 33 songs that did not appear anywhere on their officially released albums. Compiled here on Past Masters they are an easy-to-follow roadmap for the astounding leaps in maturity, creativity, and musical genius the band displayed. It’s almost impossible to believe that the band that released “Love Me Do” was the same band that released “Strawberry Fields” just four and a half years later, and then “Hey Jude” just a year and a half after that. The musical growth of the Beatles was off-the-charts, and unmatched by any band before or since. The best example of this growth is heard here, in the singles collected on Past Masters.

Grade: A+

The Beatles: Please Please Me

Please Please Me

It’s one of the most exhilarating openers in the history of rock and roll. Usually, count-ins are left on the cutting room floor since they serve no purpose for the listener and are not actually part of the song, but who would even want to imagine “I Saw Her Standing There” without Paul McCartney’s “One, two, three, faah“? Even after all these years, that simple count-in is enough to get the blood flowing. All of the excitement and sheer joy that were hallmarks of the early Beatles are present in those two seconds before the actual music even begins. The fact that it directly leads into one of the greatest of all early Beatle songs is just icing on the cake.

The Please Please Me album was intended as a moneymaker, benefitting from the moderate success of the first Beatles single, “Love Me Do” and the huge success of the #1 followup, “Please Please Me.” In 1963 albums were done strictly to cash in on the success of singles, which was the primary market for music (strangely, much like it is again today in the world of iTunes). Most rock “albums” were dreadful affairs…a hit song or two surrounded by filler that was chosen by a band’s producer or manager. Maybe there would be a few original songs thrown into the mix (especially if you were a particularly good songwriter like Brian Wilson, Buddy Holly, or Chuck Berry), but an enormous amount of the material for these early rock albums were either covers of earlier hits or new material produced by professional songwriters. There are exceptions, of course. Elvis Presley’s first RCA album was simply killer, and Presley was good enough to bring something special to even the most mundane songs that were forced on him, but that was still the exception to the rule.

A quick cash-in was certainly EMI’s intention when they agreed to let the Beatles release a full-length LP. But the Beatles were different, and their producer, George Martin, was different, too. The Beatles were perfectionists and incredibly headstrong. There would be no covers of “Old Shep” or “Blue Moon” for them. It’s not that they disliked those songs, it’s simply that they felt those songs weren’t right for them.

One of the end results of this band personality was that the Beatles refused to do anything that they felt was second rate. There would be no quick cash-in LPs…each song must be as good as the single. They wanted their fans to have 14 songs of outstanding quality, rather than two great singles (four songs) and 10 pieces of filler. In this sense, the Beatles helped to invent the rock album. (In 1963 in America, Bob Dylan was making a similar argument which led to the flawless The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, but he was still operating in a folk milieu.)

Please Please Me is not a great album when you compare it to what the Beatles would do later. When you compare it to what was being passed off as rock music in 1963, it was a lightning bolt straight to the heart of the Brill Building.

John Lennon and Paul McCartney had been writing plenty of songs, but the first album still contains many covers. The full blossoming of Lennon and McCartney’s brilliance was still to come. What this album provides the listener is the invaluable service of hearing what a typical set at The Cavern Club must have sounded like. Recorded in approximately 10 hours, Please Please Me is the Beatles racing through the best of their live show: roaring originals and smartly chosen covers of songs the band chose, not some record company or studio head.

After the opening cannon shot of “I Saw Her Standing There,” almost anything else would pale in comparison. “Misery” is a Lennon/McCartney original, and it’s a standard rock and roll number, circa 1963. The rhymes are simple, almost childish: “me/see/be/misery.” But even on this number the chorus soars when Lennon starts singing the ascending line “I’ll remember all the little things we’ve done,” enunciating each syllable as if the world depended on it, followed by a descending piano lick and the ascending “She’ll remember and she’ll miss her only one” and then the despondent tag of “lonely one.” Sure it’s an early song, and owes a great debt to Buddy Holly, but the voices lift the song over the somewhat flat music and transform it into a promise.

The songs the Beatles chose to cover were invariably well-chosen. One gets the feeling that they chose their covers not because they liked the songs, but because they felt they could bring something to the songs that hadn’t been heard before. Arthur Alexander’s “Anna (Go To Him)” has always been one of the great Beatle covers. Lennon’s voice is all pathos and the instrumentation is sublime. But here again, on the chorus when Lennon’s voice starts breaking against the rocks and McCartney and George Harrison start their wordless, Jordonaires-style backing vocals, the song becomes more than what the songwriter himself achieved.

From Carole King and Gerry Goffin comes “Chains” which features a harmony vocal on the chorus before George takes over for the verses. It’s a good number, but nothing special. But even here, the sound is extremely unusual for rock and roll because it sounds like an integrated group. This continues with “Boys,” a girl group number by The Cookies. Aside from the odd idea of a boy (Ringo Starr) singing about “boys/what a bundle of joy!” this is the fifth song on the record and the fourth lead singer. This idea of the “band” as a “group” is highlighted by Ringo’s exhortation “Alright, George!” before Harrison plays the guitar solo. What often goes unnoticed is that at this early stage, it can be credibly argued that Ringo’s homely singing voice is actually better suited for rock and roll raveups like “Boys” than George Harrison’s. Harrison later developed into a superb singer, but at this point his voice is all Liverpudlian teenage warbling. He seems unsure of himself, where Ringo is ready to just let fly.

They return to Lennon/McCartney originals with the “Please Please Me” single, starting with the B-side, “Ask Me Why.” It’s not a particularly good song, a bossa nova-style number with a solid, if unspectacular, hook. There’s a very real feel to the song in the vocals. Listen to Lennon’s voice crack when he tries to hit the high note on the “my happiness still makes me cry” line at 0:30. Throughout the song Lennon’s voice is, to be charitable, rough.

“Please Please Me” picks up the pace with one of the early examples of a great McCartney bass line pumping through the song, underlining Lennon’s blues-inspired harmonica, and the harmony vocals that raise the song above the ordinary. The lyrics are a cleverly disguised plea for oral sex, taking a subject that was certainly taboo on the radio and bringing it to #1 on the pop charts.

By the time the first Beatle single, “Love Me Do,” kicks off side two, it already sounds primitive. The lyrics are simplistic, on a par with any moon/June/spoon song, but the song contains a great harmonica solo and a captivating vocal tradeoff between Lennon on the verses and McCartney on the title of the song. There’s really nothing special about the song and if the Beatles had not gone on to be the Beatles, it’s likely that the song would have drifted into obscurity.

“P.S. I Love You” is McCartney’s tribute to Buddy Holly (“I love you/Peggy Sue”). It’s another slight song, but features really nice harmony vocals from Lennon and a very nice chorus. “Baby, It’s You” is a solid cover of a Burt Bacharach song. Clearly Bacharach was writing songs at a much higher level than Lennon and McCartney at this time. From a structural perspective, it’s one of the best songs on the album, and features a great Lennon vocal and one of those sublime George Harrison solos that mimics the melody.

Harrison takes another unconvincing lead vocal on “Do You Want To Know A Secret?” Lennon’s and McCartney’s “Doo dah doo” backing outshines the lead, and the song sounds pretty dated, but it’s still a fun listen with the band providing a sympathetic backing to Harrison’s scouse-infused vocals.

Strangely, “A Taste Of Honey” was one of my favorite Beatle songs when I was 10 or 11 years old. I’m not sure why I gravitated to this track, but the melody is superb and the vocals (McCartney on lead, Lennon on backing and harmony) are never less than excellent. The song had been kicking around England for a couple of years at that point, first as an instrumental and then with vocals, so when the Beatles recorded their version it was already on the charts.

“There’s A Place” is the final original track and it’s fascinating. The music is very straightforward and not all that interesting despite another solid bass line from McCartney, but the lyric is very unusual. Predating Brian Wilson’s “In My Room” by a few years, and predating the whole “transcendental meditation” craze by several years, here was Lennon singing about retreating into his own head: “There’s a place/Where I can go/When I feel low/When I feel blue/And it’s my mind.” That wouldn’t be all that out of place on “Tomorrow Never Knows,” but it shows up here in 1963, tacked in between a pop standard and a cover of a popular dance tune.

It is this dance tune that provides one of the great highlights of the early Beatles. The movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off made this song into a hit again in the mid-1980s, and the Beatles Anthology film includes about a hundred live versions of this song so, for me at least, it’s a little overdone. But there’s no mistaking the raw power behind “Twist and Shout.” Coming at the end of the album, sung in one full take by a shirtless, raw-throated Lennon at the end of a grueling 10-hour recording session, “Twist and Shout” is less an invitation to dance than it is a blast of pre-punk aggro rock. The ascending backing vocals from McCartney and Harrison blend with Lennon’s howl, punctuated by great drum fills from Ringo, to create two and a half minutes of rock aggression, ending the album with the same tone with which it begins. Those final seconds, where the music comes crashing down and someone (Lennon? McCartney?) manages one last defiant “Yeah!”, nail the lid on the album, and also close the door on 1950s and early 1960s-style rock and roll music. Even here, though, it is worth comparing McCartney’s formalized raveup “I Saw Her Standing There” with Lennon’s primal transformation of an Isley Brothers song. While both songwriters would later prove more than capable of working in the other’s wheelhouse, the division between the more formal McCartney and the more anarchic Lennon was already in place.

Please Please Me is the sound of the Beatles working with their influences, supremely confident in their abilities as a band, but still somewhat unsure as songwriters. From this point on, the growth exhibited by the band would be unparalleled in modern music.

Grade: B+

According To The Rolling Stones, by The Rolling Stones

Once again the Rolling Stones follow the Beatles. Several years after the Beatles released the documentary and coffee table oral history of the band, Anthology, the Rolling Stones released According To The Rolling Stones.

It’s about as imaginative as the title suggests, but the title is really inaccurate.

With Anthology, the Beatles set out to tell their side of the story, and they did it in exhaustive detail. While I might have preferred more information from the Fabs on their fascinating recording sessions, both the documentary and book were a treasure trove of stories. Every vacation, tour, and album were discussed in some length (more in the book than the film). But Paul McCartney has always been very conscious of, and protective of, the Beatles.

The Rolling Stones, on the other hand, don’t really seem to care all that much about their history. Mick Jagger especially is much more comfortable talking about their latest album/tour than he is talking about Exile On Main Street and the 1972 tour. Keith Richards tells the stories you want to hear, but the self-mythologizing can be excruciating. Charlie Watts is reticent to discuss much of anything. That leaves Ron Wood who is, at best, an unreliable narrator (as his own autobiography proves).

According to The Rolling Stones is excellent for what it is: a book that was used to cross-promote the Forty Licks tour and CD. It’s not dissimilar to 25 X 5, which was a mediocre documentary that was great if you recognized it for what it was: a promotional piece for the Steel Wheels tour. As a far-reaching, well-thought history of the band, 25 X 5 fell short. So does According to The Rolling Stones.

The Beatles Anthology was done while George Harrison was still alive, so it featured both old and new interviews with the three surviving Fabs, and pertinent pieces of old interviews brought Lennon into the mix. But where are old interviews with Brian Jones? Or new interviews with Mick Taylor or Bill Wyman? These three played essential roles in the Rolling Stones, but they are no longer in the band and have thus been whitewashed out of existence for the creators of this book. Wyman especially could have been a goldmine of information since he kept extensive diaries and notes about every note the band ever played.

But that’s the dirty secret here: this is not a history of The Rolling Stones in their own words. This is a promo piece for a CD and tour. You want proof? The Sticky Fingers album barely gets mentioned. The Forty Licks tour gets the last two chapters.

If you take the book for what it is, it’s very good. If you really want the complete history of the Stones from the band members themselves…well, have fun waiting. I just don’t see it coming.