Tag Archives: Rubber Soul

3rd Favorite Beatles Album: Rubber Soul

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Rubber Soul
1965, Parlophone. Producer: George Martin.
Purchased CD, ca. 1991.

IN A NUTSHELL: Rubber Soul is the record in which The Beatles established the template for guitar-based pop rock. In song after amazing song they distill everything wonderful about the guitar-bass-drums format into 2- to 3-minute bits of perfection. Each Beatle gets an opportunity to shine, and the Lennon-McCartney songwriting machine is running at peak efficiency. I can’t believe there are 2 Beatles albums I like better than this one … because Rubber Soul has everything I love!

NOTE: The setup – below the line ↓ – might be the best part … Or skip right to the album discussion.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was an AM radio kid in the 70s. I’ve written several times about listening to WLBR radio at home, at the community pool, or in the car. I still have a love for all those cheesy 70s tunes by long-forgotten bands like Starbuck and Jigsaw and Firefall. And I still love the cheese produced by all-time greats, like Paul McCartney and Elton John. Most of those “Have a Nice Day“-type songs were melody-heavy, catchy tunes with giant hooks. No matter their differences in style – whether they told a sad story, or were uplifting, or made for dancing or totally indecipherable or even an instrumental – they always had a melody that stuck in your head, for better or worse.

I added to my middle school Cheap Trick paraphernalia with a supercool belt buckle, the likes of which are now selling on eBay for $140.

Sometime around 8th grade I got into Classic Rock, the guitar-based music from the 60s and 70s. I think it was because of a Cheap Trick mirror I won by throwing darts at balloons at the Lebanon Area Fair in the summer of 1980. I’ve written before that the 70s and 80s were a very odd era in music-listening in that What You Liked really mattered to other people. You were judged by your professed musical tastes, and if you were a nerdy, sort-of-out-of-it teen with low self-esteem, it was difficult to be open and honest about your musical tastes for fear of harsh reprisals from tough kids in Iron Maiden concert jerseys, or popular kids who scoffed at everything. Classic Rock was a safe (and enjoyable!) music for which to express my appreciation. And my Classic Rock education taught me that I should be listening to blues-based music.

Songs by The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin and Cream and Creedence Clearwater Revival and on and on and on demonstrated the basic model. (Even Steely Dan started with the blues, even though they took a path more toward the head than the groin.) Some of the stuff I liked in high school was very-much-not-blues-based, like Rush and Yes and U2. But these bands were guitar-oriented enough to be Classic Rock staples (even the then-new U2) so liking them wasn’t really going out on too much of a limb. But if I ever heard something new, the first test of whether to admit my fondness to my friends was whether or not I could pick out that familiar 1-4-5, verse-chorus-verse-guitar solo structure that dominated the AOR airwaves. I listened for big guitar riffs, howling vocals, and long, wailing guitar solos, and, very frequently, indirect (or direct) references to sex.

But I retained that early love of melody from my childhood. (I’m sure my fondness for Cheap Trick had as much to do with their melodies as that belt buckle.) There were lots of melodic songs that I liked on the 4 – 8 hours of MTV I watched per day. But being very attuned to others’ opinion of me, I kept it quiet when I liked something that fell outside that Classic Rock paradigm. I didn’t tell many friends about my fondness for Yaz[ref]The American name for Yazoo.[/ref] or General Public or even R.E.M. The fact that I couldn’t wait to see (and hear) videos from bands like Eurythmics or JoBoxers or Romeo Void was unknown to those around me. (Well, my buddy, Dan, knew, but I tried to make it seem like I was mocking those songs I loved.)

This was also when I really started to get heavily into The Beatles. They were definitely a safe, “Classic Rock” band (and so, so much more). They had, indeed, also mined the blues and blues-based songs, particularly at the beginning of their career, so their music seemed to fall into the “typical” Classic Rock Band format[ref]Although Lennon penned a song that kind-of mocked the British Blues Revival stuff, “Yer Blues,” which was actually really great.[/ref]. But the longer I listened to them, and the less I cared about what others thought of my musical tastes, the more I realized that much of what I loved about the band had more in common with those artists I kept secret than the Classic Rock bands I thought I was “supposed” to like.

You will rarely hear those typical hallmarks of blues-based Classic Rock in Beatles’ songs. Big riffs, howling vocals, long, wailing guitar solos and horny lyrics are sometimes found in a Beatles song, but you are more likely to hear a gentle melody, or a string arrangement, or a subtly cool guitar part. The most-memorable wailing guitar on a Beatles song was played by Eric Clapton, a British Blues guitar god, so it’s not really an important weapon in their arsenal.

I purchased Rubber Soul in 1991, when I was really getting into the “alternative music” scene. I was listening to Belly and The Stone Roses and XTC and Juliana Hatfield and Pixies (and still R.E.M., of course) … When I first put on Rubber Soul to dive into its wonderful depths, it suddenly dawned on me that everything I loved about this “new” music had been done years before by my favorite band! Catchy melodies, concise structures, great – but not overbearing – guitar … it was all waiting for me right there in one album by my favorite band. And there wasn’t one big riff, howling vocal or wailing guitar in the bunch.

Okay, it’s true the album’s opener, “Drive My Car,” has a great riff, but it’s not the dominant feature of the song. It blends with everything else that’s great about the song.

First of all, there’s the most-perfect 5 seconds ever to open an album, Harrison’s guitar riff and McCartney bass line blending perfectly before Ringo’s snare roll gets the first verse underway. Lennon and McCartney sing co-lead on funny lyrics about an ambitious woman. The slide guitar solo, at 1:08, is actually played by Paul, and I love Ringo’s drums coming out of it, at 1:20. His drums and percussion are strong throughout, as he throws in both a syncopated tambourine and the second-best cowbell ever[ref]My only complaint about this song is that when my son was little, I saw Elmo sing it and at times that version sneaks into my brain. Oof.[/ref].

On their previous album, Help!, the band brought folk music sounds into their repertoire, and on Rubber Soul they continue expanding away from bluesy pop. The biggest move coming in the sitar-based gem “Norwegian Wood.”

The sitar sits beautifully between acoustic guitars and McCartney’s rangey bass line. Lennon’s voice is terrific, supported by Paul’s brilliant harmonies in the bridge[ref]I guess it’s the bridge? The song doesn’t really have verse-chorus-verse structure.[/ref]. The lyrics tell a humorous story – until the end, when maybe he burns down the house? (Or maybe he lights a joint. I could see the mid-60s Lennon doing either.) The sitar hits a cool, droning tone coming out of the bridge (0:48) and check out the really great bass at 1:03 – you may need headphones to pick it up. Anyway, it’s perhaps the best 2 minutes in pop music. And it’s not even my favorite song on the record.

My favorite may very well be the soulful, moving “You Won’t See Me.”

Paul plays a rolling bass line that is perfectly set against the syncopated piano he also plays. Ringo’s drumming – the snare and tom fills, the tambourine – is perfect, and the “ooh-la-la” backing vocals from John and George are almost as brilliant as their harmonized “you won’t see me” (chorus) and “no I wouldn’t, no I wouldn’t” (1:31). The lyrics are a bit whiney, perhaps, and make me think that certainly Paul must have played some part in this deteriorating relationship, right? But I love the line “Though the days are few/ they’re filled with tears/ And since I lost you/ it feels like years.” But my favorite thing about the song may be the fact that it slows down! (Listen at 0:05 to 0:08 and compare to 1:50.) Ringo is well-known as one of the most reliable time-keepers in rock drumming, but on this song, Paul’s piano was the backing track, and it wasn’t as reliable as Ringo. The rest of the band, including Ringo, played along to the piano. There’s something about that slipping time that adds a feeling to the song.

Nowhere Man,” I’m not going to lie, is a song I find to be rather ‘meh.’ But the 3-part harmonies are really terrific. The guitar solo, with it’s cool harmonic pitch finale, was played by both John and George (making it a duet, I guess?) George’s guitar is great throughout, actually. And John’s lyrics are the band’s first non-romance/relationship-oriented words. “Think For Yourself” is a Harrison song, with very Harrison lyrics (joining such titles as “Don’t Bother Me,” “You Like Me Too Much” and “Only a Northern Song” in George’s Mt. Rushmore of Crabby Songs). It features Paul on “fuzz bass,” that low, whirring lead-guitar-sounding part. Ringo’s drumming is outstanding,

By 1965, The Beatles were still in their lovable mop-top phase, still a couple albums and years away from their psychedelic hippie phase, yet John presaged those years with the love-fest beauty “The Word.”

It’s got all the classic Beatle stuff going on. The harmonies, the cool bass, and Ringo’s maracas and great fills, for example about 0:22, “so fine, sunshine” and before the second verse, 0:28. I love the guitar riff through the beginning of each verse (0:30, 1:00). It’s one of my favorite Beatles drum songs. I also love the super-high harmony the last two times through chorus. It’s got it all. And it’s followed by one of the band’s most enduring love songs, “Michelle.” Paul sings in French, the harmonies are stunning, the acoustic guitar is charming, and it deserves its status as a Standard.

A lesser-known song that should get more attention is the fun, weird, Ringo-sung “What Goes On.”

This is the only Beatles song ever credited to Lennon/McCartney/Starkey. Much like “Act Naturally,” on Help!, and “Honey Don’t,” on Beatles for Sale, Ringo finds success with a girl-done-me-wrong, country rock number, keeping things swinging on the drums and making the most of his limited vocal range. The rest of the band’s harmonies are fantastic, but what makes this song weird and wonderful are the clipped squawks and squiggles that Harrison lays down in the verses. Listen to the right channel in stereo – it’s so strange! Also cool – at 1:30, after Ringo sings “tell me why,” you can faintly hear John reply “we told you why!” You can also hear a little chatter right around Paul’s super-cool bass at 2:33.

John’s got several great slow songs on Rubber Soul, and one of the most underappreciated is “Girl.” It’s an acoustic ballad about, well, a girl, that John sings beautifully, loudly drawing breaths in the chorus. Paul and George chime in with cheeky (as the Brits might say) “tit tit” backing vocals. Another terrific John ballad[ref]It may be a true Lennon/McCartney song, but it’s often been thought of as a mostly-John-penned song.[/ref] is the wonderful “In My Life.” The music is great, and Ringo’s drumming is simple yet inventive, as is George’s guitar work. (Listen to the guitar behind George Martin’s harpsichord-like piano solo.) I’ve often thought that if John and Paul lived 200 years ago, Paul would’ve been a musician and John a poet. The lyrics from John are wonderful poetry.

And while I love the Beatles’ love-song catalog, I’m always more drawn to the faster numbers. One of my all-time favorites is “I’m Looking Through You,” Paul’s song about his crumbling relationship with Jane Asher.

It’s got a great opening acoustic riff, and features Ringo playing a matchbox instead of drums! (The Beatles were big Buddy Holly fans, and I wonder if this choice was at all influenced by Holly’s “Everyday,” in which Cricket drummer Jerry Allison slaps his thighs for percussion.) Paul’s voice has so many facets to it, and I love the version he displays here, with its frustration and hurt. I also dig the two-note organ in the chorus, because it’s played by Ringo, and also George’s riff after the organ. Actually George is great throughout, as is Lennon’s acoustic rhythm guitar. The song’s so good. Have I called a song on this album my favorite yet? If not, this is it[ref]In the 70s, The Muppet Show had a great version of this song![/ref]

The catchy “Wait,” which features Harrison on a tone pedal, changing the volume of his guitar, is a cool song with on-the-road lyrics reminiscent of “When I Get Home” and “P.S. I Love You.” Lennon and McCartney share lead vocals, and Ringo again contributes excellent, Ringo-y fills, but Harrison’s guitar steals the show.

George steals the show once again on “If I Needed Someone,” one of my favorite George songs ever.

George’s 12-string Rickenbacker riff establishes an immediate feeling, a sound I recognized in the R.E.M., Ride and XTC I was listening to in 1991. Paul’s bubbling bass line is perfect, as usual, as are Ringo’s drums. But what I really love is the three part harmony that starts in earnest just before the second verse, about 0:17. It’s called a love song from George to girlfriend Patti Boyd[ref]A woman who had three different Rock and Roll Hall of Famers write no fewer than 10 songs about her.[/ref], but its lyrics are rather, well, ambiguous. Explaining to a woman that if she goes to all the trouble to “carve your number on my wall” that in return “maybe you will get a call from me” is hardly Romeo Montague-level courting. “If I had some more time to spend/ then I guess I’d be with you my friend” aren’t exactly the words one whispers into a lover’s ear. But I don’t come for the lyrics, I come for the sound, and this sound is excellent.

And while I don’t really care much about lyrics, the violence of “Run for Your Life” is pretty scary. Lennon himself hated the song. I don’t love it. It’s got some nice George riffs, but otherwise – eh.

The Beatles were always exploring and constantly reinventing what people thought about pop music. They started out playing blues and R&B, but grew into a band that could write and play almost anything. This record demonstrated that all the stuff I’d grown up listening to – from plastic AM pop to leathery Classic Rock, from crystalline MTV fare to the flannel of alternative rock – was right there in one place on Rubber Soul.

TRACK LISTING:
“Drive My Car”
“Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)”
“You Won’t See Me”
“Nowhere Man”
“Think For Yourself”
“The Word”
“Michelle”
“What Goes On”
“Girl”
“I’m Looking Through You”
“In My Life”
“Wait”
“If I Needed Someone”
“Run For Your Life”

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Here Come The Beatles!

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So, now that I’ve spent a good five or six years of my life on this blog, having listened to all my CDs, and ranked them, and counted down my Favorite 100, what should I do with all my free time?

Please Please Me

I got some advice from a variety of people who – bless them – were concerned with either my mental health or the functionality of my ears based on the list of Favorite Albums I finally generated. Much of the advice involved, frankly, impossible tasks relating to places to shove albums or keyboards, or techniques involving sharp objects and my ears which did not really appeal to me.

With The Beatles

A few people thought I should count down other favorite things: TV shows, books, movies, podcasts … Such lists don’t interest me as much as counting down albums. This is because I grew up in an era when Albums Mattered. The books and TV shows and movies a person likes – well, these things have always been interesting to discuss. But among my cohort – I’m going to throw out some numbers and say folks born between 1962 and 1975[ref]Is this Generation X? I didn’t mean for it to be … but maybe it is? Oh well, whatever, never mind.[/ref] – one’s taste in music and albums was important and defining, and often ascribed a listener to a tribe, of sorts.

A Hard Day’s Night

I wrote about this some in my write up of The Who’s Who’s Next album (#37 on my list). For many folks in my cohort, it mattered whether you listened to 60s Rock or Hard Rock or Top Forty or R&B or Metal or Hip-Hop or Punk or College Rock. It was shorthand, it was a marker, it told everyone else who you were.

Beatles For Sale

And like all stereotypes and labels it was pure bullshit. There is perhaps nothing more ridiculous and pathetic in my past than being a 15 year old white boy in rural PA in 1983 loving Michael Jackson’s “Wanna Be Startin’ Something,” or Yaz’s[ref]Yazoo, outside North America.[/ref] “Situation,” or Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue,” or The English Beat’s “Save It for Later” – waiting for the radio or MTV to play them, dancing and enthusing along to them whenever I heard them, learning the lyrics to sing along, even secretly buying the cassettes – but then going to high school and mocking those songs and their listeners[ref]Often with homophobic and racist slurs.[/ref] while trying to build an oral argument for the genius of, say, Quiet Riot.

Help!

The music you loved back then mattered, and it mattered, frankly, too much. And yet, that residue sticks to me. My musical tastes have grown more diverse, and I no longer make a value judgement against fans of any type of music[ref]Except for country, but I am working on this personal bias.[/ref]. But the feeling that the music I like is important remains. I’m 52 now, and I don’t mind saying I like a little-known Buffalo Tom record more than any Rolling Stones record. Or that a record by my buddy’s band, The April Skies, means more to me than a Led Zeppelin album. These considerations define me.

Rubber Soul

And perhaps no tribe defines me more than The Beatles Tribe. I’ve resisted adding them to my rankings because I know I can’t compare them to other artists’ records. I’ve written before that they’d simply be the top of my list, then everyone would come after, so it seemed pointless to include them.

But now I don’t know what to do with myself, so I’m going to go ahead and rank them.

Revolver

I’ve decided that the albums I’ll rank will be UK versions. I’m only going to include records released while the band was active, so compilations, remixes[ref]Well, this gets tricky. But more on that in weeks to come.[/ref], bonus tracks, etc, will not be included. So here’s what will be included, in chronological order:

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

Please Please Me (1963), With The Beatles (1963), A Hard Day’s Night (1964), Beatles For Sale (1964), Help! (1965), Rubber Soul (1965), Revolver (1966), Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967), Magical Mystery Tour (1967), The Beatles (aka ‘The White Album’) (1968), Yellow Submarine (1969), Abbey Road (1969), and Let It Be (1970).

Magical Mystery Tour

US releases will not be included. This means the following titles are not included: Introducing … The Beatles (1964), Meet The Beatles (1964), The Beatles’ Second Album (1964), Something New (1964), Beatles ’65 (1964), Beatles VI (1965) and Yesterday … And Today (1966). Additionally, the American versions of the records listed in the previous paragraph will not be part of the ratings.

The Beatles

I’ve already begun re-listening to all these records, and what I am most struck by is this: The Beatles are fucking amazing. They’re not overrated in the least. They are collectively more impressive than any other band I know, with a higher percentage of good, great and excellent songs on their albums than any other band I can think of. And they sustained that percentage over the course of 13 records in eight years!

Yellow Submarine

I’m not saying all their songs are great, or even good. They had some clunkers, and there are definitely some songs of theirs that I could skip. But the number of misses is surprisingly low.

Another thing I’m noticing in revisiting all these albums and listening closely is this: each of the four Beatles, individually, is an excellent musician and performer.

Abbey Road

I’ll start with Ringo Starr, as he is often the most-maligned of the group. Because he’s not a drummer in the powerful, intricate and bombastic style of, say, John Bonham/Neil Peart/Keith Moon, Ringo is thought of by many non-musicians as a dud. However, go ask any drummer and they’ll tell you about Ringo’s brilliance. Better yet, listen to the drums in, say, “Here Comes the Sun,” or “Rain,” or “I Feel Fine,” or “I Saw Her Standing There.”

Let It Be

And George Harrison is an overlooked guitarist and songwriter. His rockabilly/Carl Perkins style set the tone for the band early on, and he always played something interesting, whether during a solo or as a background guitar. Paul and John are outstanding singers, and writers – obviously – and Paul’s lead guitar on songs such as “Good Morning, Good Morning,” and “Taxman” and “Ticket to Ride” is terrific.

So I can understand why I like these guys so much. They’re really good! And I’m going to have a blast listening closely to each of these 13 records. Deciding which ones I like best is not going to be easy, but for you, dear reader, I will do my best. Look for something new in a week or two! And thanks again for reading.

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“In my life I love you more” -The Beatles

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In my attempt to create the definitive list of my 100 favorite CDs, I have been listening daily to almost all of the records in my collection for the past 11 months. I am currently listening to #281, In Your Honor, by Foo Fighters.

I continue to enjoy this project, but it hasn’t been accomplished without some stress.

See, the entire time I’ve worked on it I have been living with a sense of dread. There has been an inevitable, difficult truth awaiting me since the beginning – a fact more troubling than anything I’ve revealed so far in this blog, including my ignorance of celebrated desserts; my realization that I displayed anti-semitic actions and didn’t even remember it; and (perhaps most embarrassing) my love of Seals and Croft. I’ve put off facing this difficult problem for as long as I could. But the time has come for me to meet it head-on. It’s time for me to see if I can handle The Truth.
you cant handle the truth

Here’s how I’ve dealt with The Truth so far: I’ve avoided it. You may have noticed, on my List of Albums Under Consideration, that I have been listening to my CDs (generally) starting from the “Z” end of the alphabet, working back towards “A.” (I store them alphabetically.) In this way, I have listened to CDs for almost a year and I STILL have not listened to any albums by my problem: The Beatles.

For you see, I am a Beatles fan.

beatles fan

beatles 1

beatles 2

A big Beatles fan.

beatles 4

A big big Beatles fan.

beatles fan 2

Okay, maybe not that big, but big. And I am aware of this bias, and I recognize that my love of them will overshadow any objectivity I may try to bring to this project. And I really don’t want to bullshit both of my readers (sorry for swearing, mom and dad) by pretending I can be objective.

So I’ve been avoiding listening to them.

not listening

(Incidentally, this is the same reaction I have when most Bob Dylan songs come on the radio!)

I already know – and I knew when I started this project – that my top ten albums will be (in no particular order) Let It Be, Revolver, Rubber Soul, The Beatles (The White Album), Abbey Road, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Beatles For Sale, Magical Mystery Tour, Help!, and A Hard Day’s Night. My top 30 would also include Please Please Me, and With The Beatles, I’m sure. (Yellow Submarine might make top 50, but wouldn’t be higher because I always skip the orchestral stuff.)

This prescience would render all my efforts pointless. Why listen to all my CDs to determine the Top 100 when I already know the top 10? To paraphrase Larry Bird, “Who’s coming in 11th?

I’ve viewed The Beatles as a problem ever since I started the project. I want to give all the CDs I hear a fair listen, but I know I won’t be fair when it comes to the Fab Four.

beatles 3

My Beatles fascination started pretty early. When I was a kid, whenever I was asked what my favorite song was, I’d reply “Strawberry Fields Forever.” My oldest sister had The Beatles’ “Blue Album,” a Greatest Hits collection from the years 1967 – 1970, and I used to love to hear her play it. For some reason, in 1977 – 78, while other kids were getting into Andy Gibb or Kiss or Anne Murray, I was getting into psychedelic pop from ten years earlier.

I also loved the song “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” with the sounds of an audience behind the guitars and drums, and the added orchestral parts. I really thought that The Beatles a) played all those horns and strings and b) did so in front of a live audience; and at the parts where the audience is heard chuckling (40 – 50 seconds in) I always tried to imagine what it was they were doing onstage to make everyone laugh. Were they dancing silly? Doing a pantomime? I can still remember imaginings of long-haired Hippies (my general impression of who The Beatles were) leaping around a stage in Shakespearean dress (for some reason) while playing French horns and electric guitars, causing a staid, rather elderly, British audience in formal attire to laugh uproariously despite themselves.

ren faire audince

Through Middle School, and into High School, I still enjoyed hearing my sister’s Beatles album, and I became very familiar with all the songs, big hits like “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,” “Lady Madonna,” and “Penny Lane,” (which over time came to rival “Strawberry Fields Forever” for top spot on my list.) But I also started to get more enthusiastic about current acts like Cheap Trick, Van Halen, Rush and U2.

Then things slowly started to change. In high school I was friends with Rick, who introduced me to a lot of music. (In fact, he and I – along with his younger brother Steve – formed the first band I was ever in, a short-lived (very short-lived) punk band whose rude (I’m sure) name I can’t remember, but with tuneless songs like “Drop Out, Kill Your Teacher,” and [I’m not proud of this one, but the point of the band was to piss people off …] “Fat Chicks Suck.” I played bass, Rick played guitar, and Steve drummed on the tape recorder with pencils and sang/screamed.) Rick’s favorite band was The Beatles, and since I respected him greatly, I decided I should listen to them more. I have a distinct memory of watching the old USA Network program “Night Flight” with Rick and Steve, and seeing both the Beatles documentary The Compleat Beatles

compleat beatles

magical mys

and the weird Beatles movie Magical Mystery Tour at their house. I soon purchased Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band on cassette.

In college, my Beatles fervor grew. I was now into a serious obsession with “Prog Rock,” – bands like Yes, ELP and early Genesis, but I had met a new friend who was slowly, surely, steering my musical ship toward the wondrous waters of Beatles.

Dave M. Dr. Dave. Phucken Dave. Dave Dude.

“Dr. Dave,” because he is now a Doctor of Pharmacy, one of the smartest people I know, rattling off pharmacological modes of action as easy as song titles from Revolver; “Phucken Dave,” because he is from PHiladelphia, and his language can – at times – be what my mom might describe as “salty” (but only at times – my mom would actually be surprised by this revelation, as I’m sure she’s never heard that “salt”); “Dave Dude” because he is not Taurus, The Black Giant.

When I met Dr. Dave he scared me. It was my first few days of college, I was a small town hick new to the city of Philadelphia, and this young man in the Joe Walsh t-shirt looked and sounded to me like some kind of big-city tough-guy. Before I got to know him, he reminded me of D’Annunzio from Caddyshack.

I was different from most of the folks he knew, as well. Here is a scene from the 80s movie that he thought I stepped out of:

But he turned out to be the friendliest, warmest person I met at college. Dave was/is an excellent guitar player, and he knew The Beatles deeply. He’d make offhanded remarks like, “It’s kinda like the solo George plays in “Honey, Don’t”” or “Ringo plays that ‘Ndah-Ndah!’ organ part on “I’m Looking Through You”” or “Matt Busby! Dig it!” and expected me to understand what he was talking about. I asked questions, the young student at the feet of the Beatle master.

grasshopper 2

And over time, my knowledge and understanding grew. I listened to the records relentlessly over the next few years. I can remember buying each album: Abbey Road the summer after my freshman year of college; The White Album, junior year (a gift, actually, from my sister); Let It Be later in my junior year; Revolver (UK version) in my senior year (at which time I played “Dr. Robert,” “She Said, She Said,” and “And Your Bird Can Sing” over and over, annoying my roommates, but learning the bass lines for the cover band (JB and the So-Called Cells) that Dr. Dave, his brother and I had formed); Rubber Soul just after graduation; Beatles For Sale, Help!, A Hard Day’s Night and Magical Mystery Tour when I lived in that cottage in Mt. Gretna.

And all through this time I was conversing with Dr. Dave, questioning him, seeking guidance, knowledge, fulfillment. He was my guru, my Beatles-sattva. Also, JB and the So-Called Cells learned a ton of Beatles songs, and played them out. Hits like “Taxman” and “Get Back.” Obscure stuff, too. “Yer Blues.” “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except For Me and My Monkey.” “Oh! Darling.” “I’ve Got a Feeling.” “I Dig a Pony.” We played other artists, too, but there was something special about playing songs like “She Said, She Said,” and playing them right and doing it well.

Here’s a photo of JB & The So-Called Cells from January, 1991, onstage at Zachary’s, in Hershey, PA. I’m far right, next to Dr. Dave.

JB cells

(I don’t really have a mullet in this picture; it just looks that way due to how my hair is cut.)

Anyway, I guess the point to all this is that I spent a whole lot of time listening to, playing songs by, and reading and thinking about The Beatles. They’ve been a sort of hobby of mine. I react differently to them than I do to other bands, even those other bands that I adore. They mean more to me, for reasons I can’t explain.

What I like about them is that they were extremely creative and interesting, but they still always wrote killer melodies (well, almost always…)

Their songs were also deceptively simple. I remember hearing Harry Connick, Jr., (who – granted – has more musical knowledge in his pinkie toenail than I’ll ever have) say that the Beatles music was too simple, and therefore didn’t interest him. This led Dr. Dave to state, “Obviously he’s never tried to play lead guitar on “I’ve Got a Feeling”!” Almost every time I listen to a Beatles song, I hear something I didn’t notice before – a high-hat in “I Want You (She’s So Heavy);” Paul’s voice cracking in “If I Fell;” the fact that Ringo’s vocal for “What Goes On” is in the left speaker, and George’s strange guitar bursts are in the right speaker. A previously unheard breath here, an extra guitar track there, a nifty bass fill there. (Why, just three days ago, Dr. Dave texted me to ask if I ever noticed the three bass notes that begin “Penny Lane”!)

I think by now, summer 2013, peoples’ opinions of The Beatles are probably set. If you like them, you understand. If you don’t like them, I can’t change your mind. And I’m not going to try. I’m just trying to make a decent list of 100 albums without having to use up 10 – 13% of the spots on one artist due to my irrational emotional ties to it.

So I have decided to exclude Beatles albums from my top 100.

I will listen to them all, and I will rank them, but they will be in their own separate Beatles list. It just doesn’t seem fair to the other bands who’ve worked so hard to be pushed out of the top ten just because I have acute Beatlemania.

beatles fan e

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