Reading The Beatles.

I'm alternating my reading at the moment, a bit of non-fiction between the fiction. A couple of Spec-Fic magazines thrown in for good measure. Lots of short stories, as this is the form in which I've been writing thus far. But in my non-fiction moments I've been getting back (ha! - get it?) into one of my great loves, The Beatles.

If I had to choose only one band that I could listen to for the rest of my life, then it would have to be The Beatles. I've been listening to them since I was a kid, and I never tire of them. There's a lot of music that speaks to me in ways that other artforms cannot, but music by The Beatles does so more consistently and more meaningfully than most.

But as a whole cultural phenomenon that came to represent everything about the sixties, I find their story fascinating. And so I read about them. A lot. I probably have more books about The Beatles than on any other subject.

It's been a while since I've read much about them. The last few months has seen me read three or four Beatles books, and I've loved every second of it. Insights, different viewpoints, little tales about meeting them, seeing them, descriptions of concerts or events. And every now and again I find something that I didn't know about, something that stuns me, impresses me, or just makes me jealous I wasn't ten years older. Makes me wish I'd lived the sixties as a teenager and managed to see them live.

But I have my little Beatles moments I cherish. Standing next to a guy as he was opening all the mail addressed to George Martin. Sitting at the console in studio two where they recorded just about everything. Touching the keyboard Billy Preston played in the Get Back sessions. Playing the piano Paul used on Lady Madonna. Standing at the Strawberry Field gates in a mist so magical and mystical I half expected Lennon to walk towards me.

There truly will never be another band like The Beatles. At least not for me.

Check out my Beatles page here.

Let's Just See What Develops.

I was on a music forum this week where some of the fans were decrying a particular artist's latest effort. One in particular claimed that since the musician had such a good time making this music, it was for fun. And since it wasn't serious, he couldn't expect the fans to pay for it. The fun stuff should be free. And of course get back to what you used to do and just make more of that.

The writer continued with a comment about fans' expectations, and how the artist owes it to the fans to deliver what they expect.

I was astounded.

I'm sorry, but the musician owes you nothing. And that goes for artist, film-maker, and writer.

Artists grow, develop, change. Their heads are in very different places to where they were five, ten or twenty years ago. As are their lives, their experiences, their goals and talents. Their output reflects their world.

Would The Beatles be the name they are now if they'd continued to write variations of She Loves You into 1969? The majority of the beat bands from that era who couldn't develop are now forgotten.

Many people criticise artists who change and develop, but then they also criticise those who don't. Yeah, I do still love Status Quo though. Athough now Quo is reduced to making TV commercials for supermarkets.
(That's the good one. Try this one.)  (Oh, and this one sucks too.)

There is a part of me that wishes Philip K. Dick hadn't become fixated with Valis and the pink beam in 1974. He spent the rest of the decade focused on that, spent hours and hours writing 8,000 pages of exegesis as he attempted to make sense of his experiences. And then, of course, his fiction output decreased and the few novels he wrote were based around his studies.

Of course I love those books he did produce in that time, but I do wonder what could have been had he continued on his merry way.

But the point is he developed, he changed. We have what we have. And we should appreciate that.

She Loves Y'All.

When John Lennon was five years old, he was put in the position of having to choose between his parents. His father, a merchant sailor home from sea, had taken him away for the weekend with the intention of absconding with him. His mother caught on, and there was a confrontation where John was asked to choose which of his parents he wanted to stay with.

He chose his father. And it was only as his mother was walking away he changed his mind and ran back to her. If that had not happened, John may have become a New Zealander and The Beatles might not have happened.

About a year ago I considered writing a story set in an alternate history where this occurred. I just haven't got round to it yet.

Josh Rountree took a similar premise and had John move to Texas as a teenager, only to fall under the spell of Bob Wills and become a country great.  Wills is a musician I had not previously encountered, but since reading the story I've fallen under his spell also.

Rountree's story, Can't Buy Me Faded Love, is the title story in his collection. If you love music and spec-fic, then I would thoroughly recommend this book. Each story comes with liner notes and a recommended playlist. It's fabulous.

I also recently read Snodgrass, by Ian R. MacLeod, which is another Lennon alternate history This time 50 year old unemployed Lennon ponders his life and what he could have been had he not fallen out with McCartney and left The Beatles. "We could have been bigger than The Hollies," he declares.

And then there's I Was The Walrus, my John Lennon re-incarnation story, which was published in Eric J. Guignard's collection, After Death, and had been receiving great reviews. Three John Lennon spec-fic stories in as many months. Anyone know of any more?

Last night I had a dream in which these three stories were published together and did very well.  How about it, guys?

The Angry One.

As you may recall, I was lucky enough to find myself inside Abbey Road studios a couple of years ago. When I first entered the holy place and was waiting at the reception counter, I stood next to some guy who was opening a stack of envelopes and checking the mail. What made this ultra cool, though, was the letters were all addressed to Sir George Martin. To me it was a moment of surrealism, a moment when I felt connected personally to the Fabs. I mean, here I was standing next to the guy who opened mail for the guy who produced The Beatles.

With my wife and our host, I toured all three studios guided by the studio manager. She was able to share lots about the studios, both technically and historically, but I more than held my own when it came to geekdom and useless trivia.  At one point she pointed to some pictures on the wall, and identified the artists. The Goons, Cilla Black, Sir Malcolm Sargent. (All of which I knew.) There was, however, one group that she didn't know.  I was able to identify them, though.  At another point she told me she wasn't sure whether The Beatles had ever used Studio 3. I was able to state which songs were recorded there, and then had a similar conversation in Studio 1.

Yeah, I know I'm sad.  But I'm a Beatles nerd.

There is very little in the way of storage available at the studios, so the hallways are lined with instruments. As we passed a couple of pianos and an organ, the manager just tapped them and said "Lady Madonna, Billy Preston, A Day in the Life.  Would you like to play any of these?"

I don't think I drooled though I may have gasped audibly.  I did, however, have enough presence of mind to grab the opportunity to play a couple of chords on the Lady Madonna piano.  And it had that sound. You could instantly recognise the tones.

As we were leaving, I asked my wife what the date was. She replied it was the 4th of January. "Wow", I said. "Thirty-seven years ago today the Beatles had their last ever session here. George played the guitar overdubs to Let It Be." At this point our host said, "You need to get a life!  Ride a bike, or something." And grinned. I guess he was kind of impressed, in the same way people are 'kind of' impressed by road accidents.

Let It Be was released in two versions. The single with the softer guitar solo, and the album track with the overdubbed 'angry' solo.  I believe there were plans at one stage to release the song with the two solos on different channels, but it never eventuated.

But last week, as I started teaching myself the 'angry' solo, I recalled the afternoon I spent in the studio. A bunch of kids at school, the keyboard ensemble,  have chosen to play Let It Be at a concert. And their music teacher has asked me to accompany them on stage. It didn't take long to figure out - but I want to nail the thing so I get it right on the night.

OK, it's not Woodstock, but it's a gig.  And I know I'll have fun.  I only hope I do credit to George Harrison.