Featured Stories

To most Beatles fans, choosing between the songs of the Fab 4 is a bit like choosing between children. But, on the JamsBio exclusive, Playing The Beatles Backward, one intrepid fan dares to rank the original songs of The Beatles and give his reasons why in a worst-to-first countdown. Check back each day for the next five songs on the list, prepare to hit the message boards to defend your favorites, and follow the countdown all the way to Number 1.

The complete list to date.

The Last Five:

179. “Ask Me Why”

178. “Long, Long, Long”

177. “Little Child”

176. “Old Brown Shoe”

175. “You Know My Name (Look Up My Number)””

174. “I Wanna Be Your Man”

LISTEN HERE  

The hypothetical possibilities are mind-blowing when you think about what might have happened when The Rolling Stones asked The Beatles to donate a song for them in 1963. They couldn’t possibly have known at the time, but Lennon and McCartney had the chance to irrevocably alter the career course of their unofficial rivals for British rock supremacy.

The story goes that The Stones manager ran into John and Paul and made the request, the two just happened to have a song on which they were working, and then they came into the studio and polished off “I Wanna Be Your Man” before the impressed Stones. (I understand that Mick Jagger and Keith Richards weren’t yet the prolific songwriting duo they would eventually become, but why in tarnation were they so impressed with a song that is essentially the title refrain repeated about 93 times?)

Lennon later claimed that they purposely gave the Stones a half-hearted effort and the fact that Ringo would eventually sing lead on the Beatles’ version (on With The Beatles) does indicate that they weren’t expecting it to be a smash. But, what if the Beatles had been working on, say, “I Want To Hold Your Hand” on that specific day. The timing isn’t that far off. Maybe, just maybe, they would have handed that one over.

Could you imagine that alternate universe? Can you see Mick chastely courting the object of his affection while Keith pitches in the high harmonies (assuming, of course, his head didn’t explode from this shock to his senses?) Maybe the Stones might have gotten the jump on The Beatles for supremacy in America.

The flip side is that maybe the Stones could never have developed into what they would eventually become, because, if this parent-friendly song was the one with which they were introduced to the world, the bad-boy image that they cultivated might not have been accepted. Maybe they would have stayed on the (relatively) straight-and-narrow path. Jagger would now be Prime Minister and Richards would be in Disney movies (oh, wait, that already happened.)

Anyway, it’s something to think about while listening to “I Wanna Be Your Man,” because the song, while harmless enough, is easily forgettable.

173. “Love You To”

LISTEN HERE  

One of the bigger targets for parody when dealing with The Beatles is George Harrison’s foray into Eastern music. We tend to make fun of things we don’t fully understand, and music with sitars and tablas in the place of electric guitars and drums still seems exotic when heard today amidst run-of-the-mill rock. In the mid-1960’s, it must have sounded like it came from outer space.

But what Harrison was able to do, for the most part, was blend the elements of that droning, hypnotic Eastern sound into more traditional (at least to our ears) Western melodies. When he perfected that technique in the latter half of the 60’s, the result was a type of spiritual uplift to which rock had never before even aspired, let alone achieved.

But those knee-jerk parodies, with the burning incense and the clichéd chanting, might have actually been on target had George never progressed past “Love You To.” Although he had dipped his foot in the pool with the sitar on “Norwegian Wood,” he chose to dive in head first on Revolver’s “Love You To.” The problem isn’t the Indian music; it’s actually quite effective. The problem is that George’s personality gets swamped in all the New Age mumbo-jumbo of the lyrics, which come off as hectoring instead of enlightening.

And the flat melody, while appropriate to the music, leads to George intoning in a stuffy-nose voice that never gets off the ground. “Love You To” is important as the stepping stone to the sound that Harrison would darn near perfect. But here that sound just gives fodder to the wise guys.

172. “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?”

LISTEN HERE  

One recurring theme that you’ll find me harping on down at the bottom of this list is the issue of effort. I contend that when the Beatles were at their best, they were at their most effortless. Obviously I understand that they didn’t just roll out of bed and toss off the classics from Sgt. Pepper’s or Abbey Road without breaking a sweat. They were perfectionists who harped on every last detail, but the final product usually came out sounding very relaxed and natural.

Many of the songs that I have ranked near the bottom sound strained. They’re straining to be what their creators want them to be, and as a result, they never quite get there. This was usually a byproduct of the group trying to branch out beyond their comfort zone, as in the case of “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?”

Here is Paul, in wink- wink, nudge-nudge mode, attempting to be salacious, and in the process abandoning all subtlety and tact. He was apparently inspired on the group’s retreat to India when he saw monkeys going at it sans inhibition. Charming. The song bludgeons you over the head about how ribald and risque it is, and you can tell that Paul’s hoping to get some knowing sniggers from the audience. But once the shock value of the first refrain wears off, you’re just left with a guy who doesn’t know when the joke should end. (And about the lyrics: Wouldn’t everyone be watching two people rogering in the middle of the avenue? Just a thought.)

The ironic thing is that this song, this short, sophomoric lark of a song, caused hard feelings because John actually wanted to be involved in its recording. So it loses points for that as well. The catchy opening percussion is fine; beside that, it’s just trying way too hard.

171. “Magical Mystery Tour”

LISTEN HERE  

First a few notes on the movie. It has its defenders and detractors. I can see the point of both camps. It’s nice to have The Beatles on film because there isn’t too much of that when they’re not performing; on the other hand, this movie is so disjointed and haphazard that even David Lynch would probably raise his hand and say, “What the Blue Velvet is going on here?”

I also love Paul McCartney’s contention that many filmmakers saw Magical Mystery Tour in film school and were inspired by it. I could just imagine the professor: “All right, today, class, we’ll be viewing Citizen Kane, Metropolis, and John Lennon in a fake mustache ladling ridiculous amounts of spaghetti onto the plate of an obese woman.”

But leave that stuff for Gene Shalit; we’re here to discuss the music. And as a song, “Magical Mystery Tour” fails in its attempt to set the stage a la “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” Maybe it’s because there isn’t really a stage to set: “Magical Mystery Tour” was on an EP in its original release along with a handful of other songs from the movie. So, standing alone, it just sounds awkward.

Paul was attempting to get the feel of an ad jingle with the punchy horns and slogans in the lyrics. He may have succeeded too well, because the song doesn’t have much more depth than a commercial for toothpaste. I do like the mysterious little coda tacked on at the end. It’s a bit out of place, but it’s the first thing about the song that feels like it’s not just a watered-down copy of an earlier triumph.

170. “Wild Honey Pie”

LISTEN HERE  

Let’s not get too deep into the merits of this song: It’s just a bizarre little White Album quasi-instrumental that barely lasts more than a minute. On the album, coming as it did after four pretty great songs, it gives the first indication that this isn’t going to be your run-of-the-mill Beatles LP. The guitar strings are being stretched as if someone is going to launch arrows with them, and the deranged “Honey Pie” refrain at the end sounds like the handiwork of drunken revelers.

The song is noteworthy for being solely the work of Paul, who played all the instruments and overdubbed all the vocals as well. (This surprised me when I first learned it; I always I assumed I heard John Lennon doing one of his jokey falsettos in there.) In fact, this practice of doing what is essentially solo material on a Beatles album really is unique to the White Album.

That’s why it’s hard to hear the album as a Beatles fan and not be reminded of what it represented: The beginning of the group’s dissolution. And yet there is an uninhibited quality to that album, a recklessness that appeals to a lot of people. As such, it’s no wonder that it is, by far and away, the most polarizing Beatles release.

So, when you hear “Honey Pie,” maybe you’ll just hear it as Paul having too much time on his hands in the studio one day. Or you could hear it as one of the first cracks that led the dam to break. I suppose that depends if you think the glass onion is half-empty or half-full. (Thank you, folks, I’ll be here all week.)

Comments (3)