Getting Back
In my October 24th post, I talked about Paul McCartney and the impending release of a three-part film about the Beatles’ “Let it Be” recording sessions put together by Peter Jackson. Now that I’ve had a chance to watch this extraordinary film, I wanted to provide my reactions. First, some background.
I have always been a loyal Beatles fan. The first rock-and-roll album I owned, acquired in my preteen years, was Beatles ’65. I bought or received as gifts all the rest of them, not to mention the singles that never appeared on the albums (remember “Paperback Writer” and “Rain”?). I watched their performances on the Ed Sullivan show when they originally aired. I saw their films and watched the animated t.v. show that aired on Saturday mornings. (The speaking voices in the cartoon show were not the Fab Four’s, as I later learned.) I read some of the fan magazines. Beatles music inspired me to take up guitar, and I learned to play some of their songs on both guitar and piano. I was disappointed when they broke up and held out hope of a reunion, until that hope was shattered by an assassin’s bullet on a dark December evening in 1980. I suppose a part of adolescent me wanted to be like the Beatles. I consider them to be the greatest, most innovative band of my lifetime, writing and recording music that still sounds fresh and timeless. My kids seem to like them too, and I try to convey to them how exceptional they were, and how revolutionary some of their music was, at the time it was created.
“Created,” not “issued.” What set the Beatles apart from every other band of their era, among other gifts, was their creative spirit, their innovative genius. Every album after the first two or three seemed to break new ground. Their unique, brilliant sound pierced through the cacophony of the more mundane sounds of other bands whose songs were carried along with theirs across the radio airwaves. (When radio stations in those early years played songs by Beatles contemporaries The Dave Clark Five, I sometimes thought at first that I was listening to the Beatles, but quickly realized that the songs didn’t quite reach Beatles quality.) The Beatles sound also constantly evolved, “getting better all the time.” And it became more experimental, as with the use of Indian instruments and sampling techniques in the psychedelic “Tomorrow Never Knows” on the Revolver album.
I still remember the day I first listened to Sgt. Pepper. I bought it at a record store and brought it home to play on my family’s stereo in our finished basement. I can remember the exact date that I first heard the album because the first words of the first track were “It was 20 years ago today,” and it happened to be my sister’s 20th birthday. Mind blown. After I finished listening to both sides, including the long, eerie ending of “A Day in the Life,” I sat still and silent for several minutes, awestruck by what had just revealed itself to me. The world of rock-and-roll had been changed forever.
But what I really want to tell you about is the new three-part documentary directed by Peter Jackson called “Get Back,” named after one of the most well-known cuts from the Beatles’ pen-ultimate album, “Let it Be” (a song we see the Beatles rehearse and perform in pieces and in its entirety repeatedly throughout the eight-hour film). Given my proclivity for all things Beatles, I couldn’t wait to see the film, and I wasn’t disappointed. Yes, it’s long, and yes, there are slow parts. But the film not only provides a rare behind-the-scenes look at a set of relationships among four young men (three in particular) who came of age together and shared some of the most intense, groundbreaking experiences the music world has ever known. It also serves as a welcome reminder of the joy of invention and the pleasure to be derived from artistic collaboration.
One thing that surprised me and other observers about the film was the tremendous affection John, Paul, George, and Ringo still displayed towards each other. By the time the film was shot in January 1969 there had been rumors of discord and a likely breakup, a prediction that became reality later that year. Even in the eight hours of film we see, there are moments when their dissolution seems nigh -- George dissatisfied with his inability to get the others to listen to and record more of his songs; John allowing Yoko to hover over him throughout the long days and weeks of their writing and recording sessions. And yet, despite some isolated moments of rancor, what repeatedly breaks through is their overarching warmth towards each other. Like brothers who don’t always get along, the bandmates knew that they shared a unique bond arising not only from their love of making and performing great music, but also from the years of experiencing the height of stardom and together enjoying and enduring all the intensely good and bad consequences that flowed from it.
But it wasn’t just that brotherly affection that I saw in the film. I also saw pure, unadulterated joy. The joy of being together again. The joy of letting loose together, for no particular reason, on bits and pieces of old rock and roll songs that they likely had played together in their early days performing in little clubs in Hamburg, Germany, and some from their own early albums. The joy of recording and performing live rock and roll music again. The joy of creating numbers that started with a seed of an idea, evolved through changes in lyrics and arrangements, and concluded with a sound and beat that was as tight, polished, and melodic as anything they had done before. The joy of still, after years of not performing, being at the top of their and anyone else’s game.
What I saw as I watched this film was that these four rock-and-roll legends (five if you count the talented and very-happy-to-be-here keyboardist, Billy Preston), were not in it simply for the money, the fame or the glory. The joy that they exuded found its genesis in their absolute love of writing and performing music, returning to yet still surpassing their rock-and-roll roots, and above all, doing all of it with each other. To paraphrase a song from Sgt. Pepper, “they . . . [were] having . . . fun.”
Beyond simply revisiting the unrivaled, synergistic talent of four still-young lads known the world over as the Beatles, the film stands as a testament to the power of artistic expression, the worthiness of the pursuit of beauty, and the happiness that can be derived from collaborating with those who share our love of invention.
It also, perhaps more importantly, reminds us of the value and transience of good friendships, particularly those friendships that helped shape us during our formative years. They don’t last forever. Some friendships sour, some friends depart. Paul and Ringo were able to enlist Peter Jackson to restore aging footage, and in doing so to revive our memories of young John, George, Linda Eastman, and George Martin, all of whom have long since passed. But we are left to wonder whether their unattainable wish, their impossible dream, was that they, the survivors and the lost, the living and the dead, could emerge from mere memory and get back to where they once belonged.