It’s good to know that, while some of us missed Beatlemania the first time round, there’s still opportunities to catch up – or get caught up – one way or another. Read my way through a fairly useful guide to all the albums and singles included in the weekend paper – I now have more of an understanding of the order of album production, which is sure to come in very handy at some point (Beatles pub quiz, anyone?).
What stood out for me more was a Storyville documentary on the impact of the Beatles on the young people of the Soviet Union in the early 60s, and beyond. An example of good journalism, I would say: the starting premise – that the Beatles’ influence helped the fall of Communism even more than perestroika etc – was actually confirmed, again and again, through the film. The maker of the film indicated his initial uncertainty at this claim, but there were so many people interviewed who iterated the claim that you got to feel by the end that it must be true.
The bit we laughed at was hearing how someone worked out how to make a guitar pickup out of telephone components – result: sudden rash of vandalism of call boxes the next day as lots of people rushed out to try it for themselves. (Not commending vandalism, but in terms of an example of effectively railing against the system, it did have a certain kudos.)
By the end of the programme, seeing footage of Paul McCartney playing a concert in Kiev – to a crowd standing there throughout pouring rain, hearing one of their heroes playing “Back in the USSR” to them – it was hard not to wipe away a tear.
For some of the interviewees, it also brought home to me the impact of banning religion under Communism, and the desire of people to find something to believe in. Lennon may have quipped about being bigger than Jesus, but if Jesus is banned, then it’s not entirely surprising if people choose to find something or someone else to believe in, and some people really did see the Beatles in a more religious light, even before their visits to India.
It also reminded me of the impact of what people pass on to you. Both Dan and I grew up with hearing the Beatles – my parents had the records, Dan’s mum even got to go to a concert or two and scream with everyone else. Reading this little booklet from the newspaper, with current and contemporary assessment of the albums and individual songs, it was interesting to compare their comments with my own take on some of the songs.
Sergeant Pepper is the album everyone know – or feels they do. As an adult, the trippy references become clearer – as a child, it just sounds like something akin to Alice in Wonderland “where looking glass people eat marshmallow pies”, part of that same happy environment of nonsense that is hardwired into children’s literature in the UK.
It was quite fun reading others’ comments in the booklet about their own take on certain songs, if hearing about the Beatles as a child. My brother thought that “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” was about our dog Lucy (there’s not a lot of dog references in the song, I’ll give you), for example. “Yellow Submarine” may annoy adults, but works perfectly well as a kids’ singalong – not every pop band can achieve that, as well as astounding the adults with their latest innovations in sound.
It wasn’t just that the songs were part of my childhood. References to the songs were also part of my childhood: Peter Sellers’ take off of “A Hard Day’s Night”, in the style of Richard III; “Here Comes the Sun” being used for the theme tune to the Holiday programme on TV.
They formed the backdrop to key activities such as holiday car journeys – the album Hard Day’s Night was a crucial part of the car tape repertoire, which in turn meant that we all sang along.
Long car journeys from various parts of England, up to the west coast of Scotland, give you a long time to tune your ear into their harmonies, and to experience that thing so satisfying as a child, your parents enjoying something for themselves and including you in it.
So it seems that wherever we are on the long and winding road since Beatlemania, we still need them. We still enjoy them. Through new computer games, we can even learn to play and sing like them (finances and equipment permitting). And we still find new uses for their songs.
Reading this little booklet, there are several references to Paul McCartney adding in the song “Her Majesty” at the end of one album, and various people (Lennon and critics alike) disliking the song. Cut to a few decades later, and a certain concert for the Golden Jubilee – and suddenly we realise that there’s even a song there, ready made, when a certain songwriter is important enough, and long lived enough, to sing that song to the lady herself.