The Path Continues.

My uncle John also shaped much of my taste in music - or at least he guided it.

When I was around 11 or twelve years old, he gave me a cassette tape. He had recorded two of his records for me - one on each side. The Essential Beatles, a quirky Australian compilation, and The Monkees Greatest Hits.
 
I already liked the Beatles, having watched the cartoon series. While the cartoon show focussed on the earlier years, although it did include Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane (and, most disturbingly, Tomorrow Never Knows), the cassette included songs right through to Let It Be.  The Monkees Greatest was, and still is, just a really good selection of songs.

I'm not sure, but I think it was probably a year or so later, he gave me two purchased cassettes - The Most of the Animals, and The Beatles & The Rolling Stones. The Animals tape had, for me, intriguing track titles, although at the time I didn't play it as much as the other tapes. The Beatles and Rolling Stones cassette was, in hindsight, my first bootleg.  A pretty average sounding tape of a few tracks from the Beatles 1964 Hollywood Bowl show, and the rest from BBC recordings.  I remember falling in love with the energy of Twist and Shout, but I did play the tape to death.

Unfortunately those tapes were lost in a fire in the early 80s, and until about 6 months ago I couldn't remember which Animals and Monkees tapes he had given me. I spent a bit of time researching, and by looking at album artwork and tracklists, it had to be these two. I've had the Essential Beatles on vinyl since the 80s, but I've now found copies of the other three. 

I've had a lot of fun revisiting these four albums.  I only wish my uncle was still around.  We could share a beer, listen to the albums, and talk music.

It's Never Too Late.

I’ve just spent a week travelling in France with an old friend. 

We met more than 30 years ago while working in Japan, and despite living on different continents, we manage to catch up every couple of years. Of course we are in regular online contact, but it’s not the same, is it?

But France was a lot of fun.  Good food, good wine, and a lot of chatting. Oh, and there may have been a few Beatles singles found along the way.

In our reminiscing, he told me something from all those years ago, something I didn’t know, and something that absolutely delighted me. I think he thought I knew, and so never mentioned it before.

Thanks for letting me know.

I arrived back in the UK, exhausted after a week of travelling, all on trains and buses, and then walking long days all around cities - Strasbourg and Paris. We saw some great sights, visited museums, art galleries, Christmas markets, and scenic spots. Did I mention vinyl shops?

What a week. One I will remember and cherish.  And if you have something positive to share, it’s never too late to let someone know.  It will be appreciated.

Why Are Fans So Awful?

It doesn't matter the fandom, so many fans are overly-critical, negative, and generally awful. If something isn't exactly how fans want it, then it is torn to shreds.

Late last year, The Beatles released Now and Then.  Many of us fans loved it, but you should have seen the discussions and comments which were simply negative - many of them before it had even been released.  Last week, the Beatles announced they were finally going to release the Let It Be film. This has been rumoured for release for many years now, and fans have been calling for it. And yet, once it was announced, fans started writing about how terrible this release would be, how it won't be this or that, won't have extras and so on. "we'd rather have a copy of the Shea Stadium show", they said. Never mind the fact as Beatles fans we have more outtakes and more unreleased material than virtually any other fandom, barring Bob Dylan.

But no, this release is going to be awful.

And talking of Dylan, the negativity towards the biopic is astounding. Timothee  Chalamet is a couple of inches too tall, the back pack he is wearing in the photos is not exactly the same as Dylan's. I even saw one comment today that said he didn't want to see this film because it will be terrible.  "My daughter hated Dune 2", he declared.  Yep, I have been wondering what his daughter thought of Dune 2, as that is how I base all my film reviews.

And then in Australian Rules football. My team, Essendon, played the biggest game of this year against last years Premiers. And it ended in a draw. Both teams played well, and my team, who has vastly underperformed for many years, were fabulous. Never gave up, chased and maintained the pressure right through the match, and were hard. Last year these fans were saying they just wanted effort.  Today, despite the pundits saying that no Essendon fan would be disappointed with the result, these fans were screaming because we didn't win.

And I'm not going to even look at the crybabies who announce often and loudly how much they hate any Star Wars film after the mid 1980s.  Sigh.

For the record, I loved Now and Then, look forward to Let It Be, think Chalamet will be a fabulous Dylan, and was thrilled with the efforts and result from today's match.

I don't care whether you (or your daughter) didn't like it.  I'll be over here making up my own mind.

It's Just Like the Sixties to Me.

The Beatles and the Rolling Stones are in the charts. Last time I looked, Now and Then was number one on the singles charts, while Hackney Diamonds topped the album charts. Who would have ever believed that sixty years ago.

I've already written about how much I love the new Beatles single, and now I've had a chance to listen to the Stones. I like it, but I don't love it.

Remember when Voodoo Lounge was released, and everyone said it was the best thing since Some Girls? This is what they're saying here. And when was the last time Voodoo Lounge was mentioned? It's not hard to be "the best since" when everything else has been average.

The songs, for the most part, are fine. It's the album that is very overproduced, a wall of guitars. It's easy to get sucked in by the gospel infused Sweet Sounds of Heaven, but listen to it a couple of times and it's lyrically lightweight.  Their last great album was Some Girls, partly for the great songs, but also because it was just the band.  Space between the instruments, rough edges, and the guitars playng off each other.

I will listen to it from time to time, but I wish they had gone with an older sound. But we all have different tastes, and I know some will love it.

Enjoy.

Now and Then.

I was in Liverpool last week for a work-related conference when I heard the new Beatles' song for the first time. I sat in my hotel room with a glass of red wine, and listened to it, as did many other fans around the world. 

And I wept.

I first heard this song more than 20 years ago on a bootleg.  Just John banging away on a piano, singing an unfinished bridge, and the TV on in the background. But hearing it with George's guitar (recorded during the anthology sessions before they abandoned it), and with Paul and Ringo's contribution, I was hit emotionally. Likely the last time I would hear a brand new Beatles song.  It's not a masterpiece - it's not Strawberry Fields Forever, but I like it. And I like it a lot.

The next day, I watched the video and fell in love with it too. More tears, seeing the four of them together from different eras. I actually watched it just as it was released, standing outisde a train station, waiting for the minibus to take me to John and Paul's childhood homes for a tour. And so there was double triple meaning there for me.

But that's it. Let it be. Unless they find a reel of unreleased music from the 60s, we don't need anything new. This has been the bookend we needed.

Thanks Paul, Ringo, George and John.

Love to Hate?

Fandom is interesting, isn't it?  Fans turn on each other, hurl abuse, and even actively work to prevent others from enjoying something.

I've seen it in several forms of fandom. I recently left one of my favourite FaceBook groups, a football group, because of the negativity, the namecalling and general abuse. Ironically, it was a group set up with the intended aim of being a pleasant and safe place, different to the others.  The guidelines, paraphrased, were to not be too negative, criticise players, and to have a good time.  That was great for a number of years, and then it grew too large.  And when people pointed out the guidelines, they were attacked for their rose-tinted glasses, and reminded of the abuser's right to "free speech."

I'm only in one Science Fiction group, run by a friend, which is still small and where people are nice to each other. (I've only had to block one person who insisted I was wrong, and actually commented on my post "What he actually means is....", which is not what I meant.  But apart from him, it is a fun place to visit.  I stopped going to others when it was insinuated that we weren't allowed to enjoy certain films, or books, because they were rubbish. Like many of the Star Wars films, or series, or books.

I left a music one because people would go out of their way to declare their hatred of all things U2, a band I quite like. it was bizarre how these people were on a mission to let you know they didn't like them.

At the moment, there are a number of Beatles fans already declaring they don't like the new Beatles song, even though none of them have heard it. It's not the Beatles, it's not this, it's not that.

Negativity. I'm cutting it out of my life where I can. And my Facebook feed is a much happier place for it.

Great Lost Beatles Album?

I'm not going to make anyone read all this under the illusion that one has been discovered. So straight up, no, I don't know of one. But I do wish there was a lost unreleased album.

Over the years there have been rumours. Hot As Sun was one such album, apparently recorded somewhere between Let It Be and Abbey Road. The master tapes were stolen and held to ransom, before being accidentally erased when carried through an airport X-ray machine

It is, of course, too good to be true. But bootleggers have created editions of this "lost album" using rehearsal tapes, mostly from the Get Back sessions.

Over the years I have been thrilled to discover unreleased tracks. Back in the 90s it was That Means a Lot, If You’ve Got Troubles and 12 Bar Original. And, over time, there have been a few others. It was wonderful hearing "new" Beatles songs. Of course there is a reason they weren't released at the time, and they generally don't get played too often. 

There are tracks we know are still in the vaults. At this time they are nothing more than titles. And, for the most part, I imagine they are not tracks we would play too often. But as fans and collectors, we would still love to hear them.

Unlike Neil Young or Prince, for example, I don't for one minute believe the Beatles have an unreleased album hidden away. Their time throughout the 60s is very well documented, and it's unlikely they would have had time to record a missing album. I think the best we can hope for a track or two hidden away which perhaps even they had forgotten about but might pop up on an acetate somewhere.

No, there isn't a lost album. But I can still dream.

Sad Gits. Sad Gits Everywhere.

People are fascinated by all manner of things, and I find that fascinating.

I'm not just talking about people who like or love something, I'm talking about the collectors or fans who love every aspect of their passion, and thrive on a tiny tidbit of new information that others would roll their eyes at. 

There can be a certain amount of elitism and snobbery in fandom. I've witnessed and experienced it myself. A few years ago I was told I wasn't a real football fan as I didn't go to every match. But there are different degrees of fandom and ways to be a fan.

These types of comments remind me of the Detectorists, a TV show about two guys whose hobby is to walk around farm fields with metal detectors looking for treasure, in whatever form that may come. There is one scene, in the video below,  where one of the detectors beeps, and they both pause as one of them digs for the item before recovering a ring pull from a can of soda.

Andy:  What you got?

Lance: Ring pull... '83... Tizer.

Andy: What do you do with 'em?

Lance: Bag 'em up... Stick 'em on eBay... People buy this shit.

Andy: Sad gits.

Never mind the fact that he was instantly able to tell us the year and the brand the ring pull was from. It's also telling that these guys think the ring pull collectors are the "sad gits". The ring pull collectors probably think the same about these guys. 

I sometimes see in the Speculative Fiction world a number of readers or writers who refer to some sports as "sportsball" when pointing out how much they don't like football. I find this term quite condescending as these are people who, for many years, have had to sigh and explain to others that science fiction isn't all about rockets and robots. Perhaps sports fans should start calling SF "robot books" or something.

A bunch of people I know think I'm a Beatles obsessive. I'm not. I collect bits that I can afford and see by chance, but I generally don't hunt for items. On the other hand, I know some fans who want every available pressing of a particular album - even from the same country but pressed at different plants. I know people who can look at a photo of the fabs and tell you the date and the location instantly. (Yeah, I can do that with some photos, but these guys make me look like a know-nothing newbie) 

I just love their music, and want to learn more about them. Maybe it's partly because I'm a frustrated guitar player who always wanted to be a real musician.

It's great to be passionate about something, isn't it? To have something that sparks your interest, that makes you want to learn more, to collect and gather and to enjoy. Does it matter if it's wine, fine art or train time-tables?

Sad Gits of the world, unite!

Get Back To 1969.

For the last week or so, while working, I've been listening to the Beatles' 1969 Get Back rehearsals.

They were potentially planning a live show, their first in almost 3 years, and so on a cold January morning they arrived at a soundstage at Twickenham film studios with a crew recording the rehearsals for a TV special.

It was cold, the soundstage was cavernous, and their relationship was fraying - for a number of reasons. But they made music, playing old rock 'n' roll standards and learning new songs. After a week or so, George had had enough and quit. The others continued for a day or so before deciding they weren't working as a trio and so they packed up and left.

A week later they had convinced George to return, with the proviso there wouldn't be a concert and they would move to a friendlier studio space. And so, with an 8-track recorder borrowed from EMI, they moved the rehearsals to the basement of their offices at Apple Records, a studio which was being built but was not yet complete. They continued rehearsing for the rest of the month until the climbed the stairs to the roof where they played live for 42 minutes across the rooftops of London. Their last ever live performance.

The film crew captured more than 100 hours of footage, which formed the basis of the Let It Be movie. The sound crew for the film used portable Nagra recorders to tape the audio, all on 16 minutes tapes. 

The 8-track recordings from these rehearsals became the accompanying album.

More than 20 years ago, bootleggers managed to get hold of around 550 of these Nagra tapes, and started releasing the complete rehearsals. They managed around 60% of the rehearsals before they were busted, and all the tapes were returned to Apple. But they made backups, and the backups were then released on the internet for fans.

What this means ifs that I have around 97 hours of audio from these sessions. It has been a long-time ambition to listen to them all chronologically. And now I am living the dream.

It's not for the faint-hearted. There's lots of dialogue and discussion (fascinating if you are a Beatles scholar), sloppy attempts at half-remembered songs, take after take after take of new songs as they learn them. Even I get a little bored after an hour of Maxwell's Silver Hammer with accompanying anvil strikes and whistling intro.

I listen to a couple a day while I'm working, and I'm currently about 17% of the way through.

Yes, they can be tedious, they can be sloppy, they can be flat due to disinterest from a disintegrating band. But when they're on the same page, and focused, they can be absolute magic.

And those are the moments I love.

Me and Stevio Down By The Schoolyard.

I had some good friends in high school, but I don't really know what happened. Within a very short time we'd all lost touch. Of course that was well before the internet and we all moved out into other worlds. These days I'm only really in touch with one of them, and that's infrequently and second hand through his wife on social media. Hey Steve B, thanks for all those years of friendship through school. I'd love to be in touch more often.

But what about the other other Steve C? What became of him? And Doug P? We used to play cricket and tennis and hangout after school. Doug D? I remember standing on the lunchtime soccer ground and talking about Bob Dylan. Keith F? Another Beatles fan. You gave me my first taste of Sgt Pepper and All Things Must Pass on cassette. Neil S? You lived just around the corner and I have no idea where you went. Tim G? I caught up with you once a few years ago and never heard from you again. Paul W? You left our school and moved to Sydney. A mad keen Carlton fan and a good writer. Where are you? Arthur C? We were good friends, and I have no idea where you moved to. Michael H? You got in touch with me at work many years ago, and asked me to call you back. I felt terrible because I lost your number on my desk and waited for a return call. 

And Johnny R? I search online for you from time to time, and can't find anything about you. We spent so much time together - fishing, listening to music, eating toast in the middle of the night.

I would love to hear from you all. I'd love to know what you're doing, what happened, hear some memories.

In fact, I'd be thrilled.

All Mixed Up.

My reading selection has been a real mixed bag recently. A couple of Spec-Fic books and collections, some rock biographies, a memoir from a fan who visited a band while they were recording, and some non-fiction. I'm currently reading some short stories by Victoria Hislop, and I'm really enjoying them. A great selection of vignettes set in Greece.

I've also been ripping through some magazines. The Fortean Times, Popshot Quarterly, Mojo, and an odd little journal called the Teatles. This is not a misspelling, and it is about the Beatles, but mostly drinking tea. If this is your thing, as it is mine, follow them on twitter.

In between all this, are the academic journals, articles and texts I'm reading for my studies. As you can imagine, they are a right hoot to read - especially after a long day at work. But it needs to be done, and there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Every now and then I get an itching to read an old classic. At the moment most of my books are stored away, which saves me from pushing these to the top of the TBR stack. But there are a few I want (and need) to revisit. It's incredible how different these books can be after many years. But for now it's Victoria Hislop in Greece. Somewhere I've never been, but somewhere I will visit one day.

Next on the list, however, is some old fashioned fantasy from Andy Remic. About time I dug back into a world not like our own.

Yesterday.

As a Beatle freak, I'm sure many expected I would rush to the cinema to see Yesterday, the latest Danny Boyle film. I love a lot of Danny Boyle's work - Trainspotting, Slumdog Millionaire, 28 Days Later, Sunshine and even caught his stage production of Frankenstein in London.

The cinema is no longer the cheap pastime it once was,  and so I save my trips to the cinema for the spectaculars, those films which need to be seen big. Star Wars movies are a prime example. Unfortunately, everything about Yesterday screamed 'Saturday Afternoon DVD'. I had only seen a couple of reviews, had no spoilers, but the marketing and the one short clip I saw on TV suggested this had little to do with the Beatles.

I waited. And I'm glad I did.

It was pleasant enough, or as Douglas Adams might have said, mostly harmless - a straightforward rom-com with some Beatles music as background. The writer, Richard Curtis, made no attempt to explore the social implications of a world without the Beatles. Even when the main character (and I've forgotten his name) goes to visit John Lennon, they spend seeming hours walking on a beach discussing a quiet life. Not once does he ask if he played music, wrote songs, ever played in a band, knew a guy called Paul. Not once.

Much like the guys in Coldplay, Ed Sheeran seems like a nice guy, but, unfortunately, he can't act. In much the same way Coldplay's music doesn't appeal to me, neither does Sheeran's. His songs are nowhere on the same level as anything by the Fab Four.

I guess my biggest concern was that nothing else in this parallel universe seemed different. While the Beatles didn't create the 60s, they certainly surfed the crest of the wave - appearing as though responsible for much of the change that occurred. But surely there would have been other differences if they never existed.

Would music have developed the same way without their influence?  Remember, at that time bands didn't write their own material, and guitar groups were on their way out.

Another point. Everyone seems to pause when hearing a Beatles song for the first time - overcome by the instant brilliance. Much of the Beatles music is contextual, rooted solidly in the time it was written and recorded. Would those songs still have the same impact if they were new nowadays? And that main guy (still can't remember his name) goes from playing empty pubs to festivals in what seems a few weeks.

Overall, a pleasant little film. Curtis and Boyle could have been more insightful and incisive but chose to play it safe. Not one I'll be adding to my Beatles collection, or ever watching again.

Choices.

I've always been intrigued by the idea of parallel worlds.

Simply put, one theory suggests that every time a decision is made from a number of different options, the universe splits into another timeline, where both choices are made. Of course this would mean there are an infinite number of universes.

But does this mean there are identical universes, one from where I cough at 10:27:03 am, and one where I cough a second later?  If something so small isn't enough to warrant a split, then how major do the differing events need to be?

I admit it. It's been many many years since I read anything about this, and my understanding is simplistic and probably erroneous, but I do love the thought that somewhere there is another universe where I am a successful author with a string of publications to my name.  Now that's a couple of books I would love to get my hands on. I figure I'd love those stories.

It also means there's a universe where the Beatles didn't split up and there are Beatle songs I've never heard.  Of course there are universes where they never became a band.

I've recently read about Dimension Jumping, or Quantum Jumping. People claim to be able to transfer to another parallel universe, one where they are able to achieve their dreams.  The stories they tell are fascinating, although I'm not really convinced by any of them. They have, however, given me ideas for my writing.

In this world we can simply do our best, taking time to make choices that are for our own good and for the good of those around us. Realising our actions can impact on others, and deciding not to harm them. Thinking before we make major choices that could ripple through time and affect our own future.

Life is a choose your own adventure book. I think I'm currently on page 74.

What Kind of Fan?

No doubt there are degrees of fans.

I consider myself a pretty big Beatles fan. I collect Beatles stuff, and can instantly tell you the difference between different mixes of their music. I know how many takes of I Saw Her Standing There were recorded, which ones were complete and how the released version was constructed.

I also love Essendon, my football club. I watch almost every game live - even if it means getting up at 4.30 am. If they play on a Thursday or Friday evening, that's a touch more difficult as it's usually daytime here in the UK and I'm at work. I don't think my managers would be too pleased if I had the game running on my PC in the office. Those games, I catch up in the evening. And I'll stick by them through good and bad.

But recently, in several online forums and groups to which I belong, I've seen fans putting down others because they aren't as fanatical. They don't go to as many matches, they don't have as much vinyl, or they don't know the names of every song McCartney ever recorded.

Lincoln City Football Club, my local team, has recently risen from years in a slump. Some fans in one Facebook group seem to yearn for the days when attendance at games was a fraction of what it is now, and rather than celebrate regular victories, sell-out games and more people in town wearing Lincoln shirts, they disparage those who are new supporters as being "Plastic Fans".

And the snobbery.

One Bob Dylan forum to which I belong, recently had a post stating that "When I put a post on here I forget it will probably be read by non-musicians."

What?  You mean your posts are so incredibly meaningful that those who don't play an instrument will never understand them?

I also saw one proclaiming that we all agree Dylan is the greatest musician otherwise you we wouldn't be in this group.  Umm, I belong to several music groups, not just Dylan's.

Another post declared those who don't "get" Dylan are obviously less intelligent than those who do. No, it wasn't meant to be funny, it wasn't a troll. Possibly the funniest part of it was that it was misspelled.

Guess what? We're allowed to like different things to different degrees. We're also not allowed to like other things. And not everything speaks to everyone in the same way. 

I'm proud of my Beatles knowledge, but I'll happily discuss them with people who know far more than I do, and those who just like some of their songs.

And, for the record, not everything they recorded was a masterpiece. You have no idea how little I listen to What's The New Mary Jane?

Twenty-Four Days And Counting.

It's about a month to my birthday.  I've been asked what I want, and I have a couple of ideas. Some Beatles, some Lennon, some Goodies, cake.

Cake is always good.

Going out for dinner is always an option - as is staying home and having something nice brought in. Might even get to spend some time with family.

I usually enjoy birthdays, but for some reason I'm really looking forward to this one. More than usual, anyway. I'm not sure why but I can't wait for it to arrive. I have to work that day, but that's not a big issue. I kind of like people in the office wishing me a happy birthday. And our office usually has cards and so on, and sometimes singing. Yeah, even that is good.

If you really want to send me a present I can make a few suggestions. I'm also open to surprises.

And if an editor wants to buy one of my stories to publish, that would be a great present too.

Motivation And Such.

Last post I mentioned I was lacking motivation in my writing at the moment. I'm kind of sad to report that hasn't improved.

I currently lack motivation for a couple of reasons of which I'm well and truly aware, although I choose not to go into any detail here. I've spent a bit of time reflecting and looking into why I feel this way, and I must admit to not knowing what to do about it. Apart from, you know, just writing.

But I want my heart to be in it. And writing just for writing sake becomes little more than exercises that lack soul.

I work in education, and continually I hear teachers give students examples of athletes as role models in their academic studies. Just this week I heard about Michael Jordan who was cut from his high school basketball team. I would like to point out the speaker also mentioned Edison, Einstein and The Beatles who were all told at some point they wouldn't succeed. And yet it seems athletes are the examples we most often use. I've done it myself.

Last week I was told about a runner, someone who is, for the very first time, undertaking one of those iron-man thingies where they run, swim and cycle ridiculous distances. This runner, who is a friend of a friend, committed himself to finishing this event. And so he woke at 4.30 every morning, ran kilometres, trained hard, focused on where he needed to improve, controlled his diet - all the things athletes do when they are training towards something.

I have much admiration for people who commit to something like this.

I considered this as a role model for my own motivation. But as I thought about it, the less it works. While there are certain similarities, the analogy between creative and athletic endeavours doesn't satisfy me enough to be useful.

An athlete like the runner mentioned above, has a specific date and event he is working towards. I'm sure he has a goal time he would like to achieve, but I'm almost as certain he'd be happy just to finish the event. And should he not achieve either of those goals, he would be able to measure how far he fell short and what he would need to do to complete it next time.

But a writer like myself is writing a bunch of short stories,  one after another, sending them out and hoping to make a sale. And there is no second place. We either sell the story or we don't. IF we don't, we get a rejection, and it's rare they contain detailed feedback on how close we got to a sale. More often it's a generic No, Thanks. There isn't a single event we are working towards, where we do the same thing over and over and over to improve in preparation. (No, rewriting doesn't count.)

That's not to say we don't have goals. To sell to this or that particular market, to sign an agent, to make a three book deal - whatever. But so much of this stuff is outside our control.

All we can do is keep writing, hoping we improve, listen to the feedback we do actually get and then remember much of it is subjective. It's all about trying to tighten our techniques while keeping the stories human and relatable.

And a lot of this is undertaken blindly, hopefully progressing by feel or self realisation. Unlike runners, we don't always have the indicators that we're shaving seconds off our time, or getting a faster start. Or even improving.

Maybe I need a coach or a mentor.

And In The End, The Love You Take Is Equal To The Love You Make.

I've been listening to The Beatles a lot recently.

Anyone who knows me well may not think this is particularly surprising. I collect Beatles music, books, newspaper cuttings. I've read hundreds of books on them (yes, hundreds) and I'm even acknowledged in one for my comments and critiquing. But for the past few years I've listened to them in much the same way a casual fan would listen to their albums.

I used to listen more like a scholar, (OK, some would say obsessive freak), comparing this mix with that mix, this take with that take, even this pressing with that pressing. I'd listen to hours and hours of Get Back rehearsals, listen to them as they created and constructed their songs. As they chatted about the weather, the news, even what's for lunch. I loved nothing more than finding a fragment of conversation or (oh my goodness) a song I'd never heard before. But with the advent of the internet, I think it all became too easily available and I no longer had to hunt for things. Perhaps too I had access to too much and I became blase about what there was.

But a break is as good as a holiday, they say, and I'm back into it, deep into 1969 rehearsals and listening to perhaps the greatest band the world will ever know as they implode and self destruct.

It makes me sad.

I watched the rooftop session last night. The last live performance they ever gave. It was a cold January morning and they shuffled up onto the roof of the Apple building to run through some songs. And for a few precious moments, you can see them happy, lost in the songs, actually enjoying making music together. Which is unbelievable considering the misery the rest of those three weeks were for them.

And then with a couple of police officers telling them to pull the plug, the dream was over.

None of them could be bothered even touching those rehearsal tapes. They were given to Phil Spector who cobbled the Let It Be album together. Sure, they went back into the studio six months later and recorded Abbey Road, a swansong, but it was never going to be the same again.

Yoko wasn't at fault for the breakup. She was a symptom. As was Linda, Ringo's film-making and George's exploration of all things Indian and spiritual.

If only. If only John and Paul had agreed to sit down and work things out. If only the others had been keen to continue. If only The Beatles were still The Beatles.

Watching them on the rooftop, grinning, flubbing lines, living in the moment is exciting. But it's also sad.

Only a few months after Woodstock, the sixties were over, The Beatles on the rooftop and The Rolling Stones at Altamont had killed the dream.

Write. Read. Make art. Create music. Live the dream. Don't regret. The time is now.

The Black Album.

There's a scene in Richard Linklater's film, Boyhood, where the character played by Ethan Hawke presents his son with a compilation CD he created. This disc, The Black Album by The Beatles, is his attempt at combining tracks by the post-breakup John, Paul, George and Ringo. (Nevermind that there is already a Black Album by the Beatles, a well known and common bootleg from the Get Back sessions) It appears as though art imitates life, as Hawke created this album in real life and presented it to his daughter.

In the film, Hawke suggests that Beatles solo albums don't succeed as too much Paul is too sweet, too much John has too much self-involvement, too much George is too much spirituality, and too much Ringo is...  well, too much Ringo.

He's right.

The Beatles were greater than the sum of their parts, and the balance of the four individuals had to be just so. The creation of an imagined 70s Beatles album is not an easy task. It's something I've tried many times and I've never felt I managed to do successfully. The balance was always wrong, the tracks didn't flow, the music and themes were too disparate.

I had few rules. The songs all had to come from a similar period of time (no mixing Imagine with Coming Up). Any song that was about the break-up wouldn't be allowed, (Let Me Roll It / How Do You Sleep?) as they would never have been written had they continued. The contribution balance had to be similar to a real Beatles album. For example, only one song by Ringo.

I was eager to check out Ethan Hawke's Black Album as the tracklisting is readily available online. So how does it stand up?

First listen, and I'm pleased by how well it works. A lot of thought has gone into this, into the track selections and ordering. A few more listens, mostly while driving, and the problems become evident. It's not much later and the discs have been relegated to the bottom of the glove compartment.

Firstly, it's sprawling and unwieldy. Three CDs, which translates to approximately five records. Not even the Beatles would have attempted that. Far too long and almost unmanageable.

Secondly, the tracks cover far too many years. Here Today would never have been recorded and released alongside If Not For You.

Thirdly, there are some tracks there that would never have been recorded by The Beatles. I've heard arguments that Lennon would never have supported the recording of something like Silly Love Songs. Possibly, but I suspect they'd have happened. History shows he didn't prevent either Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da or Maxwell's Silver Hammer from making their way onto vinyl and he hated both of those with a passion. No, I'm talking about inane novelty songs, like Helen Wheels or the No No Song.

OK, taste comes into it. But even so, how can you include a trite cover like the No No Song but ignore I'm The Greatest?

Also there are a number of songs that don't belong for other reasons. Hawke included God and Mother from Plastic Ono Band. This album was basically John undergoing therapy, and are far too personal and bitter for inclusion amongst the others.

The biggest problem is outside Hawke's control. That balance he spoke of, the need to find harmony between the four Beatles extends far deeper than simply balancing their songs. The Beatles worked best when they played off each other within the tracks.

Having said that, the tracks do flow well. Band on the Run opens, leading into My Sweet Lord, then Jealous Guy and Photograph.  A formidable selection that works well. Ethan Hawke has done a fine job in creating the Black Album, but I'd like to see a collection where the tracks are selected from a more limited time period selected and an album of only 45 minutes or so.

Are you up for that challenge Ethan? I'll even give you a hand.

Tokyo To Toronto.

I've just returned from visiting my friend Allan in Toronto. We were pretty close in Tokyo, and always stayed in touch, but we haven't actually seen each other since 1996.

It was great, and we very quickly fell back into the easy relaxed friendship we had in those days. Our interests and tastes are still very similar so we discussed a lot of film, music and literature. There are not many people who I can sit and discuss The Beatles with, and even fewer who are familiar with the differences between various takes of their songs.

But I'm back now, and almost ready to return to work this week.

It's going to be interesting, returning to my old school. A place I feel so familiar and yet have not been part of for almost a year.

But 2015 is the year of changes for me. In many ways. And, I hope, most of those changes will be for the better.

Titles.

When I was a teenager, I would walk down to the local record store every Monday after school and pick up that week's charts. They were published by the radio station we all listened to, at least everyone my age listened to 3XY. These charts (and yes, I wish I'd kept them) were the same size as a vinyl single (7" for those of you who weren't around when dinosaurs walked the earth), had a picture on the back, and the week's charts on the front.
 
I've loved music since I can remember, and I've been fascinated by song titles just as long. I had a couple of catalogues - one was from the World Record Club - and I remember spending hours reading through these charts, reading the catalogue, looking at artists, albums and the song titles, wondering what those songs were like.

I was always a Beatles freak, and I have a book that listed a whole bunch of unreleased music by the fabs. Again, I spent hours poring over those lists, and I could tell you the title of every track I'd never heard.

I always figured titles were important. I've given an album, or a book a second look, read the notes, researched the author, simply based on a title that appealed. And I still have no real idea what makes a great title.

I've had moments where I've created titles I thought were great. I even have a list of titles waiting for the right story. There are those titles where I think I'm the only one that sees the connection with the story. And then there are the titles that seem generic, too simple. Believe me, I've even spent time over those simple ones, and chosen them for a reason.

I picked up a collection recently where I thought the author was probably trying to be too clever with all the titles. They all seemed a little forced. But maybe not - our minds all work differently, and maybe they mean as much to that author as mine mean to me.

Ultimately, a title is only a clue as to what is (hopefully) within. We succeed or fail on the story, not the name it's given.