Illustration designed in 1968 by Alan Aldridge for "The
Beatles' Illustrated Lyrics."
SAY YOU
WANT A (new) REVOLUTION?
by Rip
Rense
(March 3, 2009)
copyright 2009 Rip Rense, all rights
reserved
The
recently leaked ten-minute-plus version of The
Beatles’ “Revolution 1,” with various vocals and avant-garde
effects added by the group and Yoko Ono, is not only the
most important Beatles musical revelation since “Anthology”
in the mid-‘90’s, but hard proof that there is more fabulous
material to be mined from original session tapes.
The track, possibly a
copy of a rough mix that Lennon took home after the June 4,
1968 session, sounds just as renowned Beatles authority Mark
Lewisohn described it in “The Beatles Recording Sessions:”
10:17 long, with additional George/Paul vocals of “Mama. .
.Dada” repeating many times during the fade-out. This was
take 18, the same as was edited down for the “white album,”
marked by what Lewisohn calls “pure chaos” in the last six
minutes, with:
“. . .discordant instrumental jamming, plenty of
feedback, John Lennon repeatedly screaming ‘all right,’ and
then, simply, repeatedly screaming, with lots of
on-microphone moaning by John and his new girlfriend, Yoko
Ono, with Yoko talking and saying such off-the-wall phrases
as ‘you become naked’ and with the overlay of miscellaneous,
home-made sound effects tapes.”
It
is, Lewisohn says, “riveting,” and no further accolade
is necessary. The track is a lost gem. (Even in the
profoundly unlikely event that this version has been
miraculously simulated with tape looping and fake vocals, it
still would remain a winning demonstration of the worth of
releasing the long version of the song.)
Not only is “Revolution
1-A,"
as some are labeling it, first-rate listening, but it is a
missing puzzle piece in a picture of an increasing creative
schism between Lennon and McCartney, and factionalizing of
the band. The first song undertaken for the “white album,”
“Revolution 1” (called “Revolution” until the single version
was recorded) precipitated tension, disappointment on
Lennon’s part, even a minor showdown between John and Paul
(described by former engineer Geoff Emerick in his book,
“Here, There, and Everywhere.”) It has, in short, an amazing history.
First, the ten-minute
session of May 30, 1968, was, not surprisingly, rejected for
consideration a single, due to length. As if that wasn’t
enough, the (fabulous!)
4:12
edited mix was also later nixed as a single by Paul and George
for not being “upbeat” enough (gasp---it would have been a
hit.) This led Lennon to (angrily?) remake “Revolution”
a month later, as a shockingly gritty rocker for half of
what is probably the most famous single in music history:
“Hey Jude/Revolution” (minus the winking “shoo-be-doo-wop”
vocals of Paul and George.) Even lack of chemistry and
cooperation yielded creativity in this remarkable band.
There is also substantial Beatles history wrapped up in
the so-called “1-A.” Much to the puzzlement of Paul, George,
Martin and others present, the recording marked the first
time that Ono joined a Beatles session, a habit she
maintained until the group broke up. What’s more, “1-A”
certainly marked the emergence of her heavy influence on
Lennon---in terms of social activism in the startlingly
direct, political lyrics, and the nifty avant-garde pastiche
over the song’s last six minutes.
Further, it exposed and
defined a growing creative rift between Lennon and McCartney
that led them to record very much apart during the “white
album” sessions. Lennon wanted no more of Paul’s bouncy
melodies and music-hall influenced ditties (which he
referred to derisively as “granny songs”), instead pushing
to move the group in a more hard-edged, experimental
direction---to be evidenced by such “white album” works to
come as “Yer Blues,” “Happiness is a Warm Gun,” and most
spectacularly, “Revolution # 9.” (And McCartney acceding
with “Helter Skelter.”)
The titanic “Rev.
# 9,” easily the most controversial of all Beatles
compositions, grew entirely out of “1-A.” Lennon, hooked on
the sheer fun of creating sound sculpture from eclectic
noises, spoken quotes, musical bits played backwards, etc.,
set about expanding the work done during the last six
minutes of “1-A” until it became its own highly ambitious,
ever-growing piece of musique concrete. At one point, he and
Yoko famously commandeered three separate studios in Abbey
Road (while McCartney recorded “Blackbird” alone in
another), gleefully and artfully mixing tape loops and
recording new passages through the night. The only Beatle
present in those sessions was dry-witted George, who must
have enjoyed the subversive absurdity of taking turns with
Lennon in speaking such random phrases as “financial
imbalance,” “the Watusi,” “onion soup.”
This work, which has few peers in recorded popular
music (see: Frank Zappa), and easily holds its own with
“serious” pieces by avant-garde composers such as Edgard
Varese and Karlheinz Stockhausen,* spurred the first of
several nasty “white album” spats between the two highly
creative, talented, impassioned young Beatles. As Emerick
revealed, when John proudly played “Rev. # 9” for Paul, the
response was an underwhelming, “Not bad”---sending Lennon
into a tirade about how avant-garde music was what
The Beatles should be doing, and that “#9” should be the
band’s “next bloody single!” (Now, that would have been
fun.) One wonders if the subsequent, seemingly endless takes
of Paul’s “Obla-di, Obla-da,” which drove the other Beatles
nuts, were, in part, McCartney goading his estranged writing
partner. (That song was the cause of a very colorful
confrontation in which a heavily stoned-on-heroin Lennon
burst into the studio, pounded a fanfare on the piano,
declaring, “This is how the fucking song should go!” And
that became the
piano intro.)
So the importance of
“Revolution 1-A” is immense. It not only spurred the
creation of “Revolution 1,” “Revolution,” and “Revolution #
9,” but it helped to define the increasingly divergent
musical priorities of Lennon and McCartney at a critical
and transformative moment in the band’s career.
Why it was not later
included on “Anthology” is unfathomable, unless it was a
casualty of too many cooks---or held back for a
future release (a bonus track on the forthcoming remastered
albums?) There is simply no conceivable sound argument
against releasing “1-A” today. What’s more, it is so
important among Beatles recordings that it merits more than
presentation as a “scrap,” outtake, or historical footnote.
It demands formal
production, completion.
I
submit that this song is a compelling, if not irrefutable
argument that whatever remains on Beatles session
tapes---alternate versions, longer takes, discarded
experiments---should not necessarily be released “as is,”
but would often be better served by further production
(preferably by George and/or Giles Martin.) “Revolution
1-A,” for instance, lacks producer Martin’s horn arrangement
and guitar parts by Lennon and Harrison heard in “Revolution
1.” Why not incorporate them into any released version of
“1-A?” Why leave it trivialized as an incomplete outtake? I
would even argue for the inclusion of two tape loops made
for, but not used in the track: all four Beatles singing
“ahhhhh” in upper register, and a manic, high-pitched guitar
figure. The “Anthology,” project, after all, included a
version of “Yellow Submarine” with many more sound effects
than were used on the original version, and discarded spoken
word introduction! (Released on the “Real Love” EP.)
For those who suggest
that such new production work be meddlesome, even
disrespectful of the band or history, there is ample
precedent. Martin and the “Threetles” presided over entirely
new edits and mixes of “Strawberry Fields,” “Here, There,
and Everywhere,” “Yes it Is,” and various other tracks for
“Anthology.” Some of the edits were made to show the
evolution of a song, others stand as solid, viable new
versions in their own right. And then there is “The Beatles
Love,” with its complex and clever mash-ups, some of which
also stand as alternate
versions in their own right: notably the brilliant “Tomorrow Never Knows/Within
You Without You,” and what was effectively an entirely new
Beatles release---the exquisite solo acoustic rendition of
Harrison’s “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” with brand-new
(and rather magical) orchestration by George Martin. (The
truncated “Hey Jude” also is
a nifty “new” version, with the
neat trick of eliminating all but the “na-na” chorus vocals
during the famed fade-out, then phasing instruments and
orchestra back in.)
“Revolution 1-A” deserves
no less attention. Present it as it might have been, spiffed
up with all parts included. If you’re going to release such
a wonderful rarity, why not give it a proper sendoff?
In
fact, this situation argues in favor of re-thinking the
remainder of The Beatles’ unreleased recorded legacy. Why
think in terms of new releases---albums---being
“Anthology”-like compilations of leftovers, outtakes,
scraps? Why not think in terms of restoration, to the
extent possible? Why not think in terms of a new album or
two--- viable albums that take their artistic places
in the Beatles canon---with reconstructed, embellished,
restored alternate versions of songs? Why not enhance the
legacy in this fashion? Let purists complain. Fans would
love it, and critics would be able to evaluate on the basis
of both historical importance and aesthetic value. Instead
of listening to “what might have been, but wasn’t,” they
will hear “what might have been, and now is.”
Is it possible? Sure. A
scroll through Youtube.com reveals all manner of Beatles
demos that have been “finished”
by well-intentioned amateur
musicians trying to simulate a Beatles sound (as well as
solo Beatles songs with fake Beatles-esque back-up.)
But this is not to suggest anything so
informal or crude, or that new musicians be hired to “play
like the Beatles.” Never. That would be ridiculous. There
are ways to proceed that would preserve The Beatles’ musical
integrity, while adding to the music. The rules: work with
existing materials only, except when George Martin---or a
composer endorsed by the four Apple parties (Paul, Ringo,
Yoko, Olivia Harrison)---is employed to write a new
arrangement.
How successful could such
a venture be? Only a careful listen to the material left on sessions tapes would give a definitive
answer. Yet even without this data, enough is known---from
Lewisohn's book, bootlegs, and leaks---to posit a pretty tantalizing example,
consisting, in this case, chiefly of “white album”-era
recordings. (Dipping, on occasion, into “Anthology” or
“Love” versions, and once into the "Get Back" sessions.)
Call such an album “Off White," or perhaps use either
of the titles rejected by The Beatles for the "white album:""Revolution,"
and "A Doll's House." Use the
cover originally drafted for the "white album," by famed
artist, "Patrick." Here it is:
Child of Nature---This is the famed 1968 acoustic
demo that did not make the “white album” cut---Lennon’s
plaintive, poetic paen to India and meditation (that he
reworked as the inferior, in my opinion, “Jealous Guy,” in
1971.) Paging George Martin! Take one of Lennon’s two lead
vocal lines, isolate it (amateurs have done this on Youtube),
and add orchestration. Voila. Beautiful new ballad.
No, the vocal is not studio quality, but this could work
perfectly well. After all, if Martin’s arrangement for
Lennon’s solo “Grow Old With Me” worked, which it did
beautifully, why wouldn’t this? Sir George has already
orchestrated solo McCartney Beatles songs (“Yesterday,”
“Mother Nature’s Son”), solo Harrison (“While My Gently
Weeps”) and solo Ringo (written by John), “Good Night.” Why
not John?
Hey Jude---There is a fabulous take of the song (not
the one on “Anthology”) that is slightly more brisk than the
released version, with first-rate lead vocal by McCartney
and crisp, sharp drumming by Ringo. It holds its own with
the official version, but lacks harmony and chorus vocals.
Add them from the final version, do some clever phasing out
and in of vocals/band/orchestra a la the
“Love” version, and
you’ve got a substantially different---and
magnificent---version. Lewisohn reports that several fine
takes of the song with Harrison on electric guitar exist,
and they certainly would also merit consideration.
(Especially if Harrison is playing echo-lines, which
McCartney famously rejected, as opposed to rhythm.)
Sour Milk Sea---This is perhaps a dicier
prospect. This Harrison song was written and demoed during
the “white album” period, but then given away to Apple
artist Jackie Lomax, who
recorded it with a band consisting
of Ringo, Paul, George, Eric Clapton, Nicky Hopkins. Remove
the (excellent) Lomax vocal, and substitute George’s from
the acoustic
demo. Would it work? I’ve heard an
amateur
attempt that sounded fair. With studio wizardry, I’m betting
this would succeed. (Doesn’t hurt to try.) And who
knows---maybe there is a studio quality vocal run-through in
the Harrison “vault.”
Goodbye---Do
essentially the same thing with this glorious little Paul
McCartney tune, made an Apple
hit by Mary Hopkin. Paul
produced, arranged, and played on the Hopkin session, so if
you take her vocal off and add his
demo vocal, it’s no
different from other “white album” era Beatles tracks that
featured one Beatle. Would this technically work out? Proof
is in the trying.
I’m So Tired---There is a bootlegged take of this
Lennon song with lots of
echo-guitar lines, presumably by
George, substantially changing the overall feel. It’s great.
While My Guitar Gently Weeps---Not
everyone has heard the
tremendous new version with acoustic
guitar and Martin strings from “Love.” Give it a home among
its peers.
Obla-di, Obla-da---There is an earlier version on
“Anthology 3.” Use that one or one of the other innumerable
takes. For those who despise this song, apologies.
Circles (aka “Colliding Circles”)---Another Harrison
demo for the “white album” that did not make the cut. George
accompanies himself on the organ on this heavyweight
philosophical utterance. Again, calling George Martin (or
Jeff Lynne)! Take Harrison’s vocal, add a touch of
orchestration, a sarod, Indian flutes. . .
Helter Skelter---As is widely known, fans have been
clamoring to hear the nearly legendary 27-minute version of
this song. Well, I differ somewhat with fans here. I’d be
curious to hear 27 minutes of The Beatles raucously
deafening themselves in the studio, but I don’t think I’d
want to hear it often. Cut it to seven or eight---or even
ten---minutes. Give this blockbuster its due. At least
partly. (Make the full version a bonus track.)
All Things Must Pass---There is the lovely, moving
solo studio demo that George performed during the “Get Back”
sessions, backing himself on electric guitar (released on
“Anthology”) that would serve perfectly well here. Sound
quality: excellent. But. . .The Beatles made more than a few
passes at arranging and recording the whole track, including
harmony vocals. Judging from the
bootlegged versions, I’m
betting that with technology and intelligent editing from
these run-throughs and George’s demo, a Beatles version of
the song just might be within reach. Failing that, turn the
Martins loose.
Not Guilty---Yes, there is an edit of the Harrison
song (with fellow Beatles and Clapton) omitted from the
“white album” version on “Anthology,” which is perfectly
spiffy. But there are superior versions on
bootleg. And
can’t something be done to improve the sound quality of
George’s vocal?
Revolution 1-A---Remix, add the horns and guitars
from the “white album” version, plus extra tape loops
initially omitted (see above), and you have one grand
Beatles recording---the hood ornament for this vehicle.
India,
India---A first-rate Lennon ballad, written
during the “white album” period, recorded by John at home at
the Dakota in the late ‘70’s, with acoustic guitar.
Excellent sound quality. (Why didn’t Yoko give this one to
the “Threetles” for a reunion track!) Add George Martin
orchestration, Paul’s bass, Ringo percussion, touches of
Indian instruments, (or combinations thereof) and it’s a
classic.
Savoy Truffle---Harrison has commented in retrospect
that the (terrific) saxophones on this song obscure the
brilliant job being done by the group. Release it,
band-only.
Good Night---Lewisohn reports that the first session
for this song featured Ringo, accompanied on acoustic guitar
by John, with Ringo speaking several little preambles, one
of which went like this: “Come on children! It’s time to
toddle off to bed. We’ve had a lovely day at the park and
now it’s time for sleep.” What a must for release one of
these takes is.
The wonderful Patrick cover rejected for the
"white album." |
There are other
possibilities for such an album, including Lennon's solo
acoustic ditty, "Everyone
Hard a Hard Year," and the highly publicized
goof-session of noises, screams, nonsense supervised by
McCartney in ’67, “Carnival of Light” (bonus track!) Another
prospect: take the
acoustic version of “I’m Only Sleeping”
from “Anthology,” and marry it to a loop made of the
vibes
backing track for the song devised by Martin, to create an
entirely new version. Would it work? It does. An
acquaintance has done this in a home studio, and it is
spectacular.
It should be clear by now
that with an open-minded, creative approach, and a
priority of restoration, there is a very fine Beatles album
(or more) that could yet be made from existing unreleased
recordings. There is just no way around this conclusion.
Whether Apple and its four voters have the vision and, yes,
love, to invest in such a project is, as Hamlet said, “a
consummation devoutly to be wished.” And in the end, it
would be nothing short of. . .
Revolutionary.
* Music
critic Richard Ginell agrees concerning the quality of
“Revolution # 9,” pronouncing it the equal or better of any
recognized musique concrete composer in "Third Ear: The
Essential Listening Companion; Classical Music" (Backbeat
Books, 2002).