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:

14. “If I Fell”

13. “For No One”

12. “We Can Work It Out”

11. “Dear Prudence”

10. “Eleanor Rigby”

9. “Something”

LISTEN HERE  

You can sort of forgive Frank Sinatra for the mistake that he often made when he performed “Something” in concert when he referred to it as a Lennon/McCartney song. Ol’ Blue Eyes wasn’t exactly a rock connoisseur, but more than that, George Harrison, the man who did write this moving love song on Abbey Road, was not exactly known for his heart-on-his-sleeve balladry.

Love was more of an abstract quality in George’s previous work, something that unified the whole world rather than just two people. But on “Something,” he brings it back to a very personal level, invoking the kind of love that defies description. In fact, he’s not even able to put his finger on the attraction in the song, but he knows it’s there drawing him to this other person. This song is all about the indefinable and the intangible aspects of love, the qualities so fragile that, if exposed, might disappear just as quickly.

Harrison seems aware of love’s all-too ephemeral characteristics, which tinges the song with just a hint of uncertainty. In the bridge, he sings, “You’re asking me will my love grow/I don’t know.” This is the most anguished part of the proceedings, as if the possible negative outcome is too much to bear. Harrison always led with honesty first and everything else trailed behind, and that stands as one of his most endearing qualities as a writer.

He also deserves credit here for a truly gorgeous melody, probably his best with the group. And his bandmates don’t let him down. Paul’s bass lines are endlessly ingenious, while Ringo’s rumbling rolls hit all the right accents. When George joins the pair for a genuinely weeping guitar solo, the interplay is mesmerizing.

Considering that Harrison got precious few chances to have his songs recorded and that his songs were always rated against the imposingly high standards of John and Paul’s work, his rate of success is still exceptionally high. And “Something” is his very best, the song in which he took all the passion that characterized his spiritual questing and brought it down to a touchingly human scale.

8. “Strawberry Fields Forever”

LISTEN HERE  

It started with John Lennon sitting on a studio stool, strumming his acoustic guitar, and singing subtly devastating lyrics about feelings of isolation and the chasm between perception and reality. What it eventually became was “Strawberry Fields Forever,” which is truly one of the most astoundingly progressive pieces of popular music we human beings have ever had the pleasure to experience.

How it got from Point A to Point B took a ton of creativity and talent and a little bit of the magic that seemed to be drifting about Abbey Road studios circa 1967. This was the band’s opening salvo in their attempt to transform their image from teen idols to mature artists, from lovable moptops to deep-thinking explorers, from a pop group to the standard bearers for a musical revolution. And it turned out to be the perfect song to accomplish all of that.

Lennon’s song nails a conversational tone that was rarely attempted in the idiom. Most pop or rock songs were just a series of lines pieced together in the service of meter and rhyme, but John sounds here like a man desperate to communicate his feelings while unsure of the words to use. Notice that the verses often don’t rhyme and that in the last section the singer practically seems to be stuttering in an attempt to get his point across. It’s a very insecure narrative, as if Lennon doesn’t want to offend or make any definitive statements, hedging his bets with all the “I think” and “I mean” qualifiers.

But that insecurity and lack of confidence is exactly what the song is trying to relate and what makes it so relevant to his audience. Millions of young people listening could understand John’s ambivalence and confusion at trying to grasp at something real in the midst of turmoil both inside themselves and in the world around them. They could appreciate a metaphorical place like “Strawberry Fields” as a place where they could be themselves without care.

And that appeal isn’t just exclusive to the time in which the song was written. As a teenager, I latched on to John’s lines about his state in the world: “No one I think is in my tree/I mean it must be high or low.” I could relate to not knowing whether I was above everybody or below everybody, just certain that I felt alone. Even now, at the happiest time of my life, those lines still resonate in times of crisis.

But even though the song might have worked just fine as acoustic meditation, the ingenuity of the recording pushes it into another realm. It’s at this point that we have to salute George Martin, because he was able to incorporate all of Lennon’s sometimes contradictory notions of how the song should sound into a coherent blend. Not only did he accomplish that, but what he produced was a sonic playground that suggested a fever dream or some sort of heightened reality. Taking the electric and orchestral elements and weaving them in and out of the proceedings turned the song into a world of infinite possibilities. (Kudos to Ringo too, for his devastating attack in the heavier sections and his expertise with the backward cymbals. How did he do that?) Even the necessity of slowing Lennon’s vocal down so it would fit with the various tempos became a stroke of genius, producing a wobbly texture that perfectly suited the mystery of it all.

I know I come back to this point often when discussing these songs, but how is it possible that a song like “Strawberry Fields Forever” could have existed over 40 years ago and we really have had nothing like it ever since? How is it that no one else has been able to so seamlessly marry experimentation and accessibility, creating a song with myriad layers without sacrificing the shatteringly lovely message at its core? I think we’re long since past the point of saying that The Beatles were ahead of their time. It’s officially safe to say that such a time won’t ever come again.

7. “In My Life”

LISTEN HERE  

OK, it’s time for me to fess up. My girlfriend is not a Beatles fan. No amount of my haranguing can change her mind. While she patiently indulges my obsession for them, quietly rolling her eyes whenever I go on one of my diatribes about them, she just doesn’t get the big deal.

But, to her credit, she does like “In My Life,” which, ironically, is a song that I had a hard time wrapping my head around in the past. Don’t get me wrong here; I always loved the song and appreciated its understatedly beautiful melody (no matter who was responsible for it) and John Lennon’s unforced, nostalgic lyrics.

But the sentiment he expresses is pretty brave when you think about it. After all of the lovely things he says about his past in the first section, he essentially negates it with the second. “These memories lose their meaning,” he sings, suggesting that whatever came before is rendered trivial by the existence of this new love. And the final lines are the grabbers:

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I’ll love you more.

When you get right down to it, that’s a heckuva statement to make. Think about it now. More than a mother or father. More than a brother or sister. More than any cherished friend, living or dead. More.

Now it’s just a song we’re talking about here, so it’s not like John was under oath or anything. But, as a younger man, I doubted that I could ever feel this way about someone, that anyone could ever somehow overwhelm the love that I had for my family and friends in one fell swoop.

And then I met the aforementioned non-Beatles fan.

Let’s just say I get “In My Life” now. I’m not saying that the feelings that I have for my loved ones, be they family or friends, have been somehow replaced. But when I hear the song now, I hear it as Lennon explaining that a part of you has to let go of those old attachments and give a large piece of yourself to that person you love, especially if it’s the real thing. It’s the only way it can really ever work.

Now when everyone else has gone to bed, I can put on “In My Life” and dance with my Marie and sing those words (off-key, most likely, but it’s the effort that counts) with utter honesty as I look into her eyes. And if takes piggybacking on the talent of John Lennon to truly express how I feel about her, so be it. She deserves the best.

And all this for a non-Beatles fan. Who would ever believe it?

6. “All You Need Is Love”

LISTEN HERE  

So you’ve been asked to perform in front of a worldwide audience. Your words will reach millions upon millions of ears. What would you say? What would your message be?

The Beatles decided upon a simple one when they performed on the Our World broadcast in the summer of 1967 at the height of a cultural sea change that they partially created. Five words: “All You Need Is Love.” Is it naïve? Maybe. I know it’s not an easy philosophy to live by, even though John Lennon says it is in the song, even if you believe it at your very core, as I do. When you listen to the chorus of “All You Need Is Love,” you can almost hear this difficulty in the way the music briefly shifts into a minor key upon Lennon’s third repeat of the refrain. There’s a brief moment of melancholy there, in which all the disappointment of the human race seems to be contained within John’s downcast voice.

In that second, The Beatles are asking all of the members of that worldwide audience why a love-driven world isn’t possible? What are the things that we do to each other that make this simple plea sound so naïve? In that second, Lennon seems to admit that it’s not so easy after all.

And yet he, and they, implore us to try. Whatever you think about the content of The Beatles’ message to the world in that global television appearance, you have to admire their courage to say it and the conviction with which they put it across. This power of “All You Need Is Love,” a simple song with straightforward lyrics and a one-note melody, is that it hones in on a message that resonates throughout the world by resonating with every singe person in it.

The Beatles rose to the occasion unlike few others in history at that given moment, using their talent and opportunity to speak on behalf of their audience, saying the thing that we’d all hope we would say if given the chance.

Comments (4)