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(Capitol, 1966)Were you wondering which Beatle single sits alone atop the mountain of greatness? Which wears the crown of bestness and holds the scepter of #1-itude while drinking from the goblet of kick-rumpery? You are wondering those things? WELL WONDER NO MORE, BECAUSE THIS IS THE ONE!! Congratulations, “Paperback Writer” / “Rain”! The facts: The A-side is one of their hardest-rocking songs, crunching along at a brisk pace with just a few stops for breath to let the group toss out some top-notch three-part harmonies. And then the dudes go full-on psychedelic with “Rain,” its crawling vocal performance and backwards ending giving it the most delightfully druggy feel yet on a Beatles record. Paul and Ringo really outdo themselves on both songs – those burbling, melodic bass parts are right up front; crisp, full-kit drumming powers “Rain”; and the gunshot snare-hits in “Paperback Writer” are, as the kids say, the bee’s knees (provided you like bees and their joints) (Wait! “Joints”! And this a “druggy” single! I sort of made a joke right there, didn’t I! I mean, almost!).For a long time I believed that the more celebrated “Penny Lane” / “Strawberry Fields Forever” was the superior record, but now, listening to this one over and over, I admit the error of my ways; this is simply stronger all around – the writing, the singing, the playing. See, people change, people get smarter. Like how just last night I realized that I actually enjoy the Beach Boys’ 15 Big Ones album. It has at least five songs on it that I, my taste now totally in the toilet, would consider “good”: “It’s OK,” “Everyone’s In Love With You,” “Palisades Park,” “Susie Cincinnati,” and “Just Once In My Life.” We’re always growing and learning, friends, and top celebrities like me are no different, despite our millions of Euros and mustachioed good looks. This is a valuable lesson for all of us, and one truly worth remembering as the year comes to an end. So be sure to join me in 2008, when we’ll really get the comments section hopping with a detailed discussion of the political/social unrest in Pakistan following the assassination of Benazir Bhutto; a closer look at Harry Reid’s crafty use of pro forma sessions to prevent Bush from making recess appointments; and of course our continuing wall-to-wall coverage of Trent Lott’s retirement from the Senate. It’s gonna be another terrific year of politics here at I Think I Hate My 45s!
(Capitol, 1966)Another luv-lee downer of a character study – Dylan lite, perhaps – from the increasingly inward-looking John, with cowpoke Ringo twangin’ it up on the B-side’s c&w-informed throwaway “What Goes On.” There’s a Byrdsian fullness to the layered vocals and the lead guitar of “Nowhere Man,” but my favorite part of this song is a teensy touch that for whatever reason has always tickled me bigtime. At about 1:02 (OK, I cheated and checked the timing on a CD copy), there’s a single keyboard note that’s held as the solo ends and the next verse begins. I love that! And it’s not quite the same thing, but Rubber Soul has even more wonderful sustained-note keyboard biz on “The Word”; check it out! That stuff kills me! Yep, just hold down a key or two and I’ll be clapping my hands and giggling ’til bedtime comes.
(Capitol, 1965)
Hey, this is the fourth consecutive single I’ve reviewed that has the word “day” in the title, and it’s probably the best of the bunch. The Beatles continue to push the thematic boundaries of Top-40 teenyboppery with these two non-love songs; the moptop era, already showing weak vital signs on the band’s last few 45s, is definitely over with this one. Rock-side “Day Tripper” (fave of rookie guitarists the world over) is about pulling out of an unhealthy relationship, while the considerably more optimistic “We Can Work it Out” is a plea for reconciliation – though featuring a grim-faced, cautionary (“Life is very short…”) middle section. The latter song, with its harmonium and prominent tambourine, slots neatly into the mellow, rich-sounding period that the group was entering into, and is an appropriate companion to Rubber Soul, which was released at the same time as this single.
A fellow named Lee Moses recorded a supercharged instrumental soul version of “Day Tripper” that is well worth hearing; it’s on the Time and Place compilation (which also includes #1 ass-kicker “Bad Girl”), so please go spend your money immediately. In other music news, my neighbor is listening to a Kool & the Gang compilation at top volume right now. But I did stay up until 5:00am this morning blasting Trans, so fair’s fair I suppose.
(Capitol, 1965)Dig now Paul’s reputation-cementing ballad, which quickly became The Biggest Pop Standard Ever and kick-started the great/horrible 40-year career of McCartney as balladeer. As syrupy and overblown as he would often get on discs to come, give “Yesterday” credit for being sparse and tasteful; the string accompaniment takes a backseat to the warm vocal and guitar, and little touches like the spooky doubling of Paul’s voice during the first “…now I long for yesterday” are quite effective. Ringo’s twangy hoedown on the B-side – a cover of “Act Naturally” – makes for a jarring shift in tone, but, if nothing else, it does a nice job of showing off the band’s ability to pull off credible impressions of its influences (the best example being “Please Mister Postman,” which blows the original right outta the water).Here’s an observation: Seems to me that Ray Davies was taking a shot at Paul and the Beatles when he wrote these lines in “Where Have All the Good Times Gone”:Well yesterday was such an easy game for you to play
But let’s face it things are so much easier today
Guess you need some bringing down
And get your feet back on the groundThat song was recorded in October, 1965; “Yesterday” was released in August, 1965… Given the timing and the similarity between the lyrics, it’d sure be a funny coincidence if Davies didn’t have McCartney’s tune in mind when he penned his own ditty, wouldn’t it? Why you so prickly, Ray? And why am I the only person to ever point this out? Weigh in! Paul, let’s hear from you first.
(Capitol, 1965)Ha ha ha oh you krazy Beatles. First you go and misspell “Beetles,” now you get the number of days in a week messed up. Eight days?? EIGHT? There are only SEVEN days in a week, you nuts! Didn’t you guys KNOW that? I’m not sure how they do things in England, but it’s definitely always been seven over here in the U.S.A., and always will be, too. Jeez-o-man! The song itself? Oh, it’s, uh, it’s fine and everything, it actually sorta SWINGS (rather than ROCKS) and even though it’s super-duper catchy and all, it’s not an obvious jump forward for the group and is really one of the more disposable of the (late-period) Beatlemania singles. And what’s up with the fade-in on this song? Weird! Well, OK, that’s a cute gimmick, I guess; sure. But let’s admit that the acoustic “I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party” is pretty fuggin’ weak, even if it is emotionally complex and whatnot (you’re really plumbin’ the depths of male insecurity, John… wayta go!). In conclusion, whether you’re from Kirkland WA, Westminster MA, or even Calgary AB, you can surely agree that my neverending Beatles reviews are utterly worthless.
(Capitol, 1964)Without fail, pulling an all-nighter upsets my stomach, and this year’s Christmas travel made necessary a sleepless Amtrak Sunday that had my insides churning for much of the following day. So as I watched the dawn puke itself all over the New England landscape this morning from a train window, I was already considering finding a paper bag so I could follow suit. Grim hours indeed. But happily, things were looking up after I caught some accidental z’s on a cousin’s sofa later in the afternoon, nog in hand (oh that nog). In my improved mood, I am able to mull how totally my railway experience stands as a pathetic contrast to the zany choo-choo boogaloo of those fun-lovin’ Beatles in A Hard Day’s Night’s opening sequence. Which is a convenient topic of thought, because that movie’s titular single is next up in our hit parade of reviews. How ’bout that!The Beatles are completely locked in by now, operating at full power with a dense, exciting production that’s sandwiched between two unorthodox snatches of chiming guitar – the first announces the group with a powerful, ringing blast; the last fades away as the band sprints off into the distance. Ringo comes through yet again, layering cowbell and subtle, galloping hand-percussion tracks around his “hit it on the two and the four” rockbeat. On the tra-la-la front, Lennon handles the verses and McCartney the bridge, and DANG do their double-tracked voices sound perfect chasing after one another. In fact, the whole song has a chase-like quality to it, successfully conveying – aurally – the crazy pop-world rush of the film with which it shares its name. Very nice soundtrackin’ fellas, very nice soundtrackin’ indeed. On the B-side, “I Should Have Known Better” (also featured in the movie) gives us an early hint at the self-doubt John’s lyrics would investigate much more sharply on albums like Help! and Beatles For Sale. But the creeping maturity and self-awareness manage to heighten rather than dampen the fun on this single as new musical and lyrical possibilities are enthusiastically mined. You win again, Beatles!
(Tollie, 1964)
The first British single, yes, but not released on 45 in the United States until 1964’s frenzied post-Sullivan cash-grab. “Love Me Do” is an uncomplicated, harmonica-heavy number with a clomping beat, and it’s bluesier and far more constipated-feeling than the songs that defined the classic early “Beatle sound” soon to be in place. (The absence of tambourine on the recording indicates that Tollie chose to issue the Ringo version of the song; an alternate take, with Andy White playing drums, was – and still is – simultaneously available on the international market in LP and 7” form.) The smooth “P.S. I Love You,” on the other hand, feels a bit more assured, with the group coasting through this balls-free love song under some fine vocalizing by McCartney, who even cuts loose with a little soulful ad-libbing at the end. Certainly both sides of this disc are rudimentary efforts – the cave paintings of Beatle art – and better marked as safe pop-combo pap than funtime rock ’n’ roll, yet they’re still satisfying on their own merits, simply because these guys always knew how to write a catchy song, sophisticated or not. And that’s the name of the game, yeah?
It’s worth noting that, much later, two Beatles would revisit these tracks with embarrassing results: Ringo released a lame, gimmicky cover of “Love Me Do” on his Vertical Man album in 1998, while Paul, on the Flowers in the Dirt tour, combined both sides of the single into an atrocious dancepop number called “P.S. Love Me Do.” Recordings of that travesty appeared on a UK single and various live bootlegs, all of which should be avoided.
(Capitol, 1966)
