Ranking The Beatles

After a few years of producing some fairly heady and serious musical output, George found himself wanting to lighten the load a bit in 1968. Not everything needed to be Within You Without You, inspiration didn't always have to be divine. It could come from anywhere, even your friends gross teeth. Thanks to his friend Eric (you know who)'s love of chocolates and disregard of dental hygiene, George came up with Savoy Truffle, an under-rated (imo) tune in which Paul and Ringo provide some of their nastiest grooves. George's decision to let the song be led by horns instead of guitar keep it exciting and energetic in a way it just wouldn't be if guitars were the feature instrument. George said around this time he "just wanted to be a rock star," and he certainly seems to be the part here, with a great vocal delivery matching his guitar lines, and lyrics that are downright sexy. How this song doesn't get more love is beyond me, cuz it's a killer.

Riding high on the success of a chart topping debut album and #1 singles, the Beatles were searching for what the next big hit would be. While "It Won't Be Long" didn't turn out to be that hit, it did provide a brilliantly urgent shot with which to start their sophomore album. It absolutely fires out of the speakers, grabbing the listener immediately with a passionate lead vocal from John that volleys back and forth "yeah!" "yeah!" "yeah!"s with Paul and George. A great guitar hook, tight syncopation from John and Ringo showing that this band has chops and an ear for crafting winners even on mere album tracks. It's a great way to start the second album, showing that there's definitely more in the tank from this young upstart band.

It can be tough to write songs when you're not out living real life experiences. After the Beatles stopped touring, John often found himself at home, bored and isolated from the social scenes he'd been in while on the road. But John could find inspiration in anything...posters, newspapers, even commercials. That's where he found inspiration for this rocking ode to everyday malaise that would find a home towards the end of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Driven by some gnarly sounding horns, a driving drum track that hides a complicated time signature, and an absolutely ripping guitar solo from Paul, "Good Morning, Good Morning" seems to often get the short end of the stick. It's not as psychedlic and dreamy as some of John's other Pepper-era tunes, but it's certainly as vidual a lyric and as well produced a track, and a nice chance to hear the band really rock on that album.

1967 was arguably the top of the mountain for the Beatles. With the Sgt. Pepper album, they provided the soundtrack that encapsulated global consciousness, while also elevating themselves beyond just a mere pop band; they were artists of the highest order.

It was also the beginning of the end, with the death of Brian Epstein kicking off a long series of events that would eventually unravel the band. But by the year's end, they were just too big to fail. As such, "Hello, Goodbye" made it's impact as a return to light-heartedness that the band, and the world, needed. It's an insanely catchy song, sing-a-long-able in every way, and miles removed from the higher plane they'd been operating on for the last year. But it's kind of like cotton candy. It's sweet, and satisfies the sweet tooth, but doesn't have any real substance to it. But boy, it's sure tasty.

This week we inaugurate Debbie Davis as the newest member of the 4 timers club! We welcome back one of the best singers in New Orleans to discuss this song, musical grave robbing, commerciality, and more!

We're into the top 100 songs in our rankings! We can't turn back now!!

Paul McCartney seems to have a knack for making sure he finishes things. "Now and Then" is a good example; he saw something there worthwhile and though it took a couple of decades, he saw it through to completion. The same can be said for "I Will," a song for which he had a melody kicking around a long time before he was able to complete a lyric for. After tossing lyrics he worked on in India with Donovan, and after John declined to help, he came up with what on paper are incredibly simple lyrics, but say so much more. And that melody...what a winner. He looped in Ringo and John to add percussion, and a brilliant vocal bass, cramming the final song with hooks in a simple arrangement. It makes for one of the more beautiful and light-hearted moments on an album that can sometimes be viewed as really dark.

As Paul noted in the Get Back series, The Beatles seemed to excel when their backs were against a wall. They were certainly feeling the time crunch during a several week residency in Paris in early 64. They hadn't yet conquered America, but they were due to be there in a couple of weeks. They also had their first movie on the horizon, and they had to finish writing most of the songs for the film and it's accompanying album. All while playing a bunch of shows, and trying to enjoy the fact that they'd just gotten their first #1 in the US.

Thankfully, they were able to knock out some classic material in that time, including this song, "I Should Have Known Better." Featuring an effective harmonica hook, a 12 string guitar solo, and a wonderful lead vocal from John, this song almost exemplifies '64-era Beatles. In fact, it's often the song I think about what when I think about what typifies the band. It's the first Beatles song I can remember hearing also, which may explain that. It's simple, sustinct, effective, and so so catchy.

While the exact time and place of this song seems to have been lost to the fog of 80+ years of memories, Paul does remember that he wrote this song with the thought it might end up as the Beatles next single in 1964. It seemed to lack that certain Beatle magic singles required, but it found a home on the back half of Beatles For Sale, albeit a home that maybe doesn't do it the justice it deserves. It's sneaky in a few different ways. It's got melodies and hooks for days, from the verse melody to the soaring chorus, to that chorus' emphatic tympani hits. And that's before we even get to John's 12 string electric guitar part, which comes across as a totally different take on the 12 string electric from what George would have played. Speaking of John, he turns in a fantastic vocal, and it's one of the rare times in the catalogue a song is sung by a Beatle who wasn't also the composer of the song.

Been a long time since we did a two-fer episode! Here we go!

The Beatles often seemed to turn in some of their best work when up against a deadline. A handful of songs that would make up most the Help! album seemed to come about in short order, as the band had to write and record a big majority of the album before leaving to film. "You're Going to Lose That Girl" is one John knocked out in short order that really shows the band's growth as a unit, and represents them at maybe the most professional sounding of the early Beatles era. A killer, classic John vocal with pitch perfect call and response vocals from Paul and George and rock solid foundation from Ringo, pushed forward by a frantic bongo overdub. It just seems to be the epitome of early-Beatles cool, especially in light of the brilliant performance footage of it in the Help! film.

And in very different times, the band turn in one of their most straight ahead rocking performances with "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Reprise)." By the end of the Sgt. Pepper sessions, the band hadn't really done a true out and out fast rocker since maybe the middle of 1965. Ready to put their masterpiece to bed, the band spent the last day of the sessions letting it all out on the uptempo penultimate track. With some of Ringo's most killer grooves (the Beastie Boys would sample the intro on Paul's Boutique, their own hip-hop Sgt. Pepper), absolutely killer guitar from George and John, and some of Paul's most frenzied shouting, the band showed that even though they were branching out in all directions, they could be the best rock and roll band in the world.

IT'S HERE!! New Beatles music in...2023!?!?!

What a time to be a Beatles fan. After blowing our collective minds with the Get Back documentary in 2021, Peter Jackson and co. have again used their MAL software to allow separation of John's vocal and piano from his original demo, solving the issue that seemed to have stalled the completion of this song in the 95 Anthology sessions. With the help of Giles Martin, Paul and Ringo have finally seen this one over the finish line, the last new Beatles song.

After what must have been a creatively exhausting few months creating Sgt. Pepper, The Beatles blew off steam by recording a track that was more in line with the Goon Show humor they grew up loving, filled with weird voices and sound effects, creating comedic environments and asides, purely for the enjoyment of doing something that appeased them. It took them several sessions over a couple years to finish it, with Paul and John working in on it together even during some of their most tumultuous times. For somer reason, it was something they really wanted to finish. Usually a song like that would stay in the vaults, but by the time the wheels had fallen off, this bizarre track found a home as the B-side of "Let It Be," mainly due to John's prodding. If any song released during their time together could be considered obscure, it's probably this one.

However, while it's understandable that this song may not be people's cup of tea, I've always found this to be an absolutely captivating and fun song. It's the absurd humor and silliness we all love in A Hard Day's Night or Help or (more so) Magical Mystery Tour, but on record instead of film. This is probably one of the best looks at the entangled relationship of Lennon and McCartney, two people so connected into each other's brain and psyche and humor. It's their in-jokes, it's their connection as friends with their own private world, and it's right here on record. It's two friends on the microphone doing being the kids they've always been, and it's a blast. How you can you listen to this and NOT smile? And not to mention, it has maybe one of Paul's most ferocious vocals, and possibly Ringo's fattest groove and best sounding drums? Cmon! Who else could do this!?!?!

Lots of songwriters point to the idea that the best songs are the ones that tend to find the you, letting the writer be the vessel or medium. Much like "Yesterday" did for Paul, "Across The Universe" seemed to come to John from within a dreamstate, appearing in his subconscious while lying in bed, almost pushing him to get up and go write down the words and find the melody that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. An absolutely gorgeous lyric no doubt influenced by the band's recent immersion into meditation and easter philosophy, the song marks John at perhaps his most cosmic and peaceful. The irony is that from a recording standpoint, John never could figure out what he wanted to do with the song. Unlike "Yesterday," where George Martin seemed to know exactly what the song needed, that directive and inspiration was no where to be found for "Across The Universe." Lennon lead the band through multiple arrangement ideas but never captured what he thought he was hearing in his head, or where he thought the song should go. Which is a shame because I think although it's a really beautiful track (I love all the versions out there) the track ultimately suffers from an almost un-easy performance from John. As released, it never feels totally settled and comfortable in it's own skin. It's almost like it's missing the confidence in the delivery because John never seems sure of where he should be going. But even still, it's a beautiful song, one of John's best written songs, I just think it's a B- minus track of an A+ song.

It almost seems a shame that the Beatles only ever recorded one Burt Bacharach song. There are arguably no finer melodicists in modern popular music than Bacharach and Lennon/McCartney. But "Baby, It's You" is the only song from his catalogue they ever laid to tape. Recorded for their first album and a product of their well documented love of girl-group R&B, it's a chance for John to show his fantastic, soulful voice. His voice really carries the track with an impassioned delivery, bolstered by always great background vocals from Paul and George, solid foundation, and a charming celeste solo from George Martin. It's a wonderful example of John's potential for being a blue-eyed soul singer if things had been a little different.

At the end of what was probably the busiest year they'd ever have, the Beatles needed a single for the Christmas market in 1964. They needed to churn it out while also wrapping up work on their 4th album. John picked up a riff from a Bobby Parker song and wrote what he thought was "a lousy song" around it, but nevertheless, brought it to the band. Thankfully, his fellow Beatles all had deep bags of tricks to pull from. Ringo added a latin groove straight out of "Tequila," George added a Chet Atkins-infused solo, Paul keeps it tidy with a grooving bass part and great harmonies. And a little bit of musical voodoo gets sprinkled on top when the band stumbled upon the magic of feedback, which they then tack on to the beginning of the track. All of the sudden, this "lousy song" is their 6th consecutive #1 that year, stayed in their live set for the next 2 years, and goes on to be the 56th best selling single of all time in the UK. Not bad for a little song called "I Feel Fine." The Beatles magic of turning a song into something stronger than the sum of its' parts is on display here, as there's not too much weight to the song, but boy is it a cool song.

Though the Lennon/McCartney partnership really only existed in name by 1969, the two songwriters still knew who the best person was to help complete a half-written tune. As they'd done before on songs like "We Can Work It Out" and "A Day in the Life," each brought an unfinished piece they were able to stick together to make a whole with "I've Got A Feeling," combining Paul's verse idea and John's bridge. It's a song they worked on constantly during their January '69 sessions and was the source of some real touchy moments with George, but it never really took flight until Billy Preston showed up and sprinkled his magic keys on it. Billy's gospel-tinged electric piano provides the perfect call and response in the verse. Paul delivers a powerful top-of-the-range vocal that gets countered by John's more subdued bridge vocal. George's fluid leads throughout combine well with Billy's keys, and Ringo provides a super solid foundation, as always. But in the end, the song doesn't really SAY anything, it's more a performance track than an actual song. Though, I'd give my left toe to write a track like this and have it be someone's 108th favorite song of mine.

George Harrison's journey as a songwriter began later than his other bandmates. After delivering his first self-penned track for the band's 2nd album, he had to rely on a Lennon/McCartney song for the 3rd, and a Carl Perkins cover on the 4th. But by the time of the Help! album, he had 2 on the table, and found his abilities starting to really grow. With "I Need You," he drops the dour, bitter persona he is sometimes known for to deliver an open, honest, vulnerable track that's economical in length, has some gorgeous key changes, and features the band starting to stretch in terms of trying new sounds in the studio. George plays rhythm guitar on a nylon string acoustic, Ringo plays percussion on the back of a guitar, John (?!?!) delivers the back beat on the snare drum, while Paul delivers a really interesting bass part that eschews the normal root note bass mentality. The band aren't afraid to venture into new territory, and George seems unafraid to show his actual vulnerability and own real life turmoil, which all coalesces into a track that's better than people remember.

The friendly creative rivalry between the Beatles and the Beach Boys arguably hit it's peak in 1966 when the bands released two albums that routinely top "best album ever" lists, the Beatles' Revolver and the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds. Lennon and McCartney had been inspiring Beach Boys mastermind Brian Wilson to up his songwriting, and vice versa. On Revolver, this influence shines through in the harmony-laden "Here, There, and Everywhere," a song Paul managed to scribble together while waiting for John to wake up for a songwriting session. Not a bad way to kill some time. It's an absolutely gorgeous song that, honestly, I'm not sure why in the hell I have it ranked at #111. I must've been in a weird mood the day I did this ranking, or maybe I was halfway through a bottle wine (I did make this list during quarantine afterall), but this song is just beautiful. Between the melody and the 3 part harmony, I pick up real mid 60s Brian Wilson vibes here (not surf era, more the Summer Days.../Pet Sounds era), and it makes me think that while "Here, There, and Everywhere" has a really basic backing track, I wonder if it might have benefited from a more intricate style Brian Wilson production?

To chew on my latest ranking abomination, we're happy to welcome back Death Cab for Cutie guitarist Dave Depper! Since we last chatted with Dave, his band has released the fantastic album Asphalt Meadows, as well as an acoustic version of the album, and he's released a solo album which is an entire cover of the Air album Moon Safari. Busy fella!

One of the first songs The Beatles worked on for the Get Back sessions of 1969, Paul's "Two of Us" was inspired by his road trips to nowhere with his new love, Linda; piling in the car, picking a direction and getting lost, just for fun. When he brought it to the band, it was originally conceived as a fast, chugging rocker, with a dual harmony vocal for Paul and John to harness their inner Everly Brothers on. This is the song the band were working on when George has his infamous "I'll play whatever you want me to play, or I won't play at all, whatever it is that will please you, I'll do" moment in the Let it Be film. Despite it's peaceful, loving origins, it was a track that caused major head bumping. However, in it's final form, it's a breezy, easy, track, with effortless vocals from Paul & John, and just the right amount of everything from the band musically. I've got to say, I adore this song, and what I was thinking when I ranked this at #112, I have no idea. Honestly, maybe I was drunk. I don't know, I ranked these during lockdown so it's possible.

To rightfully question my sanity this week, we welcome Brian O'Connor and Simon Barber to the pod. Better known as the duo Sodajerker, Brian and Simon are a songwriting team who also host the absolutely brilliant podcast Sodajerker on Songwriting. For the last 10 years, they've been interviewing the cream of the crop of the world's biggest and most successful songwriters, legends such as Elvis Costello, Lindsey Buckingham, Nile Rogers, Diane Warren, Paul Simon, Noel Gallagher, and an up-and coming writer you may have heard about named Paul McCartney. They've amassed the largest archive of songwriter interviews in the world, and it's one of my absolute favorite listens, both as a musician, and as a music lover. Brian and Simon join us to talk about all manner of things, sculpting air, esoteric songwriters like Van Dyke Parks and Michael Nesmith, bad Scouse acting, how badly Jonathan blew it here, and their absolutely EPIC meeting with Sir Paul.

By the time of the White Album, George Harrison had mellowed considerably, thanks in part to his immersion in meditation. His newfound enlightenment replacing the dour, bitter side that came out in earlier songs like "Don't Bother Me," or "Taxman." So it's interesting that this chilled out version of George would decide to pickup the abandoned-in-1966 song "Piggies" to complete for the band's 1968 album. But indeed he does, and with a big assist from Abbey Road engineer Chris Thomas, turns in an Orwellian baroque classical-influenced social commentary track about class inequity. It's an outlier on a album with many outliers, but it's a really fun, light-hearted yet heavy-handed track that wouldn't work nearly as well without the harpsichord work of Thomas, who happened to be overseeing the session and had the gumption to suggest, and then perform that part that essentially drives the whole track. Whether it's essential is another argument for another podcast, but it wouldn't be the White Album without "Piggies."

Though George was still a budding songwriter in 1964, deadlines and heavy workloads meant he didn't have anything ready for the band's 4th album. John and Paul didn't seem to have the time to write him something new either, so when the clock was ticking, the band reached back into their bag of beloved covers to find a spotlight for their lead guitarist. Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby, a song by one of their heroes Carl Perkins (or was it?) proved a formidable track to give George a chance to flex his well honed country guitar muscles, and give the band a fun rocking moment to end their most mellow record to date, Beatles For Sale. It may be a cover, but it's a great band performance. George is really confident in his singing and playing, and really seems to be going for it vocally. It's a really fun track on a more serious album, and though the track is a good time, live, it's an absolute stomper. At Shea Stadium, they sound like the world's best garage band. I maybe wonder if I associate that smoking like track more with the song and that may bump the ranking up a bit more in my subconscious, but maybe not. I just love this song.

When you're cranking out 2 albums a year, plus singles, plus a movie, plus BBC sessions, plus tv appearance, AND touring, it can be a little difficult to crank out nothing but brilliance. While most of us hardcore Beatle fans are not quick to deride many songs in their catalog, the Beatles themselves certainly could be, and both John and Paul minced no words in describing this Help! album track. "Abominable," "Abysmal," "Lousy," and "Not literature" are just a few of the descriptors they gave to this song. That said though, I tend to think it's actually got some real merit, despite the slight lyrics and weak rhymes. Melodically, it's actually quite lovely, and John's vocal is beautifully understated throughout, with just enough ache in the chorus to sell it, followed by a wonderful falsetto Roy Orbison-esque sendoff. It's always been a bit of a sleeper for me, as a great melody can cover up all manner of sins.

It takes a certain higher level of creativity to write a song based around the more mundane and every-day-type affairs. Obviously, that's something Paul McCartney has in spades, as he was able to turn an encounter with a meter maid into the Sgt. Pepper track "Lovely Rita." A bouncing song held down with a really funky groove from Ringo, a ridiculously cool bass part from Paul, all manners of vocal effects and sounds, it's the kind of track that they Beatles could've only put out on the Sgt. Pepper album. There's a humor to the whole process that belies the fact that it's author is one of the smoothest bachelors in the world, but ultimately strikes out in his attempt to woo said meter maid. Who would write a song about this? Paul McCartney, of course.

What was originally a song given away to fellow Liverpudlian singer Billy J. Kramer, "I Call Your Name" is claimed to be one of John's earliest song attempts, pre-dating the Beatles when he was first learning to play guitar. The song was spruced up with Paul for Kramer, but then reclaimed by the Beatles in early 1964 in consideration for songs for A Hard Day's Night. That plan fell by the wayside, but the track found its' home on the Long Tall Sally EP and The Beatles Second Album in the US, though managed to stay somewhat of an obscurity, as far as Beatles songs go at least. However, that doesn't prevent it from being an ripping, if not adventurous slice of music from the boys. For such an early song, it goes to some interesting places melodically, showing John possessed his knack for songwriting at an early age. It features some fantastic 12 string work George, though he's still getting comfortable with the instrument. It's a song about being absolutely devastated by loss, to a point of not even being able to cry, and if the timing is correct as John claims, it seems like it may be about something really, really hurtful from his past. It's all held together by a phenomenal vocal performance from John, hitting the peak his of his early phase vocals. Then of course, there's that rhythm change in the solo, an imaginative, experimental move the band had never tried, completely out of left field. It's a fantastic song and recording, as evidenced by the fact that it was covered contemporaneously by acts like The Mamas & The Papas and The Buckinghams, among others.

After almost a half a year of intense work on the Sgt. Pepper album, it's hardly surprising that, though there was plenty of work to be done for future endeavors, the Beatles were looking to blow off some steam and take things a little bit lighter. "All Together Now," a song that even by Paul's own admission is pretty slight in the grand scheme of things, certainly fits that bill. It eventually found its' home in the Yellow Submarine film and accompanying soundtrack. In the film, it's the finale, when we finally get a glimpse of the real life Fabs, looking different than their cartoon counterpoints, not quite Beatlemania, but not quite the longhair, bearded phase they'd be into after the film. It's a weird, inbetween phase, highlighted by John's brilliant mutton chops. But musically, it's just a blast of simple, pure joy...nothing more, nothing less. Driving acoustic guitars, hand claps, harmonicas, honking horns, and a call and response vocal of what's essentially nonsensical children's song lyrics are all the ingredients of what's basically musical ice cream...no real nutritional value, but boy is it delicious. This is a song that always puts a smile on my face and makes me move, regardless of the mood I'm in. The Beatles can be all things to all people, and one of the things I genuinely appreciate about them is the fun they can bring, and this is one of my favorite examples of that. I think I may be in the minority on here, but it's my list, so hate on, haters!! :)

In the fall of 1964 as the Beatles began working on what would become their 4th album, Beatles for Sale, it was only a couple of months after their 3rd album hit stores. They'd been constantly touring, making their first feature film, recording BBC sessions, essentially going non-stop. Time for songwriting was becoming precious and hard to find, so consequently, they started looking back at more of their favorite covers and originals that had been pushed to the back burner. One of those was Paul's "I'll Follow The Sun," a song with origins that traced all the way back to 1958. What was originally a bit of a jauntier song was transformed into an introspective, folksy ballad, given some lyrical tweaks and a fresh arrangement, and turned into a really beautiful moment on an album that often gets overlooked. It provides somewhat of a throughline for Paul's love of ballads and more tender material, a throughline that starts with their first album and continues all the way through to today. And for a song that he wrote when he was 16...it's pretty darn beautiful. If it loses any points, it's not its' own fault, its just part of such a storied song catalog of songs written by a more learned songwriter. But what a melody. Don't sleep on this one.

The Beatles' love of r&b, Motown, and especially Smokey Robinson are no secret. They were such fans, their 2nd album, 1963's With The Beatles featured 3 motown covers, including "Please Mr. Postman," originally by the Marvellettes, and the first chart topping single for the Motown label. While it wasn't as big a hit in the UK, it was a hit with the Beatles, who added it to their set as early as December 1961. By the time they were working on their second album, they had turned it into a scorching, passionate tune, with one of John's finest early vocals, great backing vocals from Paul and George, and as always, rock solid support from Ringo. Their love of the material shines through, making for one of my favorite Beatles cover songs of the early era. It's just got...that thing.

Lennon and McCartney were masters at finding inspiration all around them, not just from their own personal lives. On the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album, John was inspired by a poster in his house and wrote "Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite." Paul found inspiration in reading a news story about a young teenage runaway, and turned that into the harp and string-laden drama ballad "She's Leaving Home." Another of those great Macca Mind Movies where the story is so vivid you not only can see it in your mind's eye, but you sympathize with the characters in the song. It's a song that often gets overlooked, as it's surrounded by so many big hitters on the album, but it's an absolutely gorgeous tune. 

From the moment he joined the band, Ringo's popularity meant he'd have a song or two to sing each night. This was a practice for The Beatles even when Pete Best was in the band, but once things really took off, and Lennon and McCartney were becoming more solidified songwriters, they knew it'd be good to have an original for Ringo to sing. "I Wanna Be Your Man" was written while the band was working on their second album, and according to some tellings, was written on the spot for a young, upstart band called The Rolling Stones, who were looking for a song that might be a hit. Whether it was written specifically for the Stones or for Ringo, it turned into Ringo's vocal turn on the With The Beatles album, and also provided the Stones with their first chart hit. It's a simple but effective rocker, a glimpse to what the band might've sounded like bashing it out in the Cavern, and it stuck in the band's live set all the way through the end of their touring days in 1966. It swings, it's fun, it's got a really cool turn around, and Ringo really goes for it vocally, which isn't what he usually does.  

Self-care isn't always something that gets prioritized when we're in our 20s. But the notion of taking the time to check in with yourself, to be mindful of the things going on around and inside of you seems to be something that Paul McCartney was tuned into in 1967. He credits this with the freedom to discover himself that he found through mind-expanding stimulants of the time, namely marijuana and LSD. "Fixing A Hole" is the result of this, a metaphorical look at taking personal stock and learning to look after one's self. It's an interesting tune that doesn't really sound like anything else on Sgt. Pepper, it's not overtly psychedelic, and personally, it's a bit of a sleeper for me. A sleeper in that I seem to forget about it but when it pops up I remember how lovely it is. There's some interesting questions about it too...did Mal Evans get a co-write on it? Did John really play bass? How did George get that rad guitar tone?? 

Originally sketched out in a notebook of song ideas started in Rishikesh, Paul's "Mother Nature's Son" is part of a trifecta of White Album songs where he emerges as fully formed solo artist, the only Beatle on the track. It's a beautiful acoustic-based song about the solitude and peace one finds in nature. Featuring a nice bit of Nilsson-influenced brass, it provides fantastic imagery and scenery, another of those great Beatle mind movies. And to my ears, it's also a LOT more autobiographical than it gets credit for. Paul had been somewhat isolated from the other 3 Beatles for a few years, socially, living in the city area of London, while the other three relocated to the stockbroker belt. The others took to LSD long before he did. He left India before John and George. In a lot of ways, he kind of HAD to become a self-contained solo artist to get out all the creativity he had inside him because he didn't have his partners around him as much. Maybe this poor young country boy is more telling of a track than we realize? Regardless, it's certainly one of his more beautiful acoustic tracks that he can just churn out so easily. This one feels so effortless and delicate and unguarded, in a way a lot of these songs don't for him.

"We made a mistake," said John. "We thought there was more to him than there was, you know?" said Paul. After their stay in Rishikesh ended, the Beatles' overall disillusionment with the Maharishi lead to John and Paul publicly distancing themselves from the Eastern philosophy and path to enlightenment that George had lead them all to pursue. And while the unit a whole distanced themselves, marking the end of that phase for the group, George continued his practice and involvement for the rest of life. He felt the group viewed him at fault for they saw as public embarrassment, but in his mind, they were free to make any choices they wanted, and to follow any path they chose. It wasn't his fault. And thus was born "Not Guilty," a song recorded during the summer of '68 for the White Album.

The band spent more time on "Not Guilty" than any other song in their recorded catalog, and after all that work, it was left in the archives until the Anthology project in the 1990s. George re-recorded it in the late 70s for his self-titled solo album, albeit in a much mellower version. The Beatles version though seethes in a moody, angry way. George's fully self-referential lyrical style is on display, singing a song about something obviously very personal, maybe almost too much so though. It's a much darker, heavier song than The Beatles typically are known for, with some interesting instrumental and arrangement choices, leading them to spend over 100 takes trying to get the track right. But everyone comes to play here. John's harpsichord track moves things into a kind of demented carnival territory, with George adding a sublime, almost detached lead vocal, and a stabbing electric guitar part. Ringo gives a dynamic, grooving part, while Paul provides one of the coolest bass parts he ever laid down. Maybe John and Paul weren't comfortable with letting George be the one to air the dirty laundry at this point, but to me, leaving this song off the White Album was a rare mistake in their catalogue. It makes the album a bit more of a rocking album, and shows another side of the band musically.

They say there's no rest for the wicked, but throughout the 60s, there was often no rest for the Beatles. As soon as work was done on the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album, they began working on more songs with an eye towards the recently-contracted-Yellow Submarine film. Inspired by an acid-fuled evening spent at the 14 Hour Technicolor Dream and his immersion into the hippy scene of '67, John began working on a song called "One of the Beautiful People." At some point, he paired with a song fragment Paul had, possibly inspired by their want for manager Brian Epstein to start enjoying himself and some of the money they'd all made, and "Baby, You're A Rich Man" was born. One of the coolest grooves the Beatles (especially Ringo) ever laid to tape, the tune bounces from detached, light-hearted falsetto to a boisterous, joyous chant of the chorus, all held together with a musical equivalent of a mosquito in flight, John's performance on the clavoiline (possibly played with an orange?), an instrument that was lying around Olympic Sound Studios, the studio the band was recording in on that evening. It's an absolute jam of a track, and incredibly fun, but the track maybe hiding that fact that the song itself is maybe lacking a bit in substance.

Joining us this week is our old pal James C., host of The Oasis Podcast. He recently undertook the ill-advised task of ranking the entire catalogue of Oasis, as well as the Gallagher bros post-Oasis work. We wanted to compare notes on how we each went about our rankings, and what we took from it. Of course, I'm always up to talk about Oasis, as they're one of my other favorite bands. We touch on all kinds of things like musical and emotional growth (or lack thereof), memories triggered by music, and the difference between American and British podcast guests. Check out his brilliant Oasis Podcast anywhere you listen to podcasts about Oasis!

Trigger Warning: in regards to a long-held rumor about a lyrical variation on this song supposedly sung by John about Brian Epstein, we do discuss the cultural differences between the F-word, and the word is mentioned in that conversation, but purely in a contextual sense. If you'd rather skip this discussion, it starts at an hour and 3 minutes in, and lasts for about 6 minutes, feel free to skip ahead, and know that in no way do we condone or support hate speech or language of that type.

Paul McCartney seems to always have a fondness for looking through time. He looks to older age in songs like "When I'm 64," too his own passing in "The End of The End" from Memory Almost Full. He presents quasi case studies in the music of yesteryear with songs like "Honey Pie" or "Your Gave Me The Answer." With "Things We Said Today," he's looking to the future to look at the present, thinking that one day, what he's experiencing NOW will be but a memory. Or something like that. That's how he explains it at least, and who am I to argue? 

Presented on the back half of A Hard Day's Night, "Things We Said Today" is a somber look at a relationship he already seems to know may not last. Its driven by an energetic acoustic guitar and a fantastic McCartney melody with some nice chord movements. Additionally, being an acoustic based, up-tempo, minor key song, it stands out on an album that's pretty filled up with John-dominated rockers as a song with a bit of sophistication. And while it's definitely a really good song, I don't necessarily think it's a great one. It seems to serve as a blue print for things Paul would go on to do better in the coming years, and as such, I don't find myself thinking of it all that often. When I do though, I definitely enjoy it, it just feels like....it's a bit lighter than I remember it?

Hindsight being what it is, one can only imagine the reaction listeners had when they first reached the back half of side 4 of the White Album in November 68, and the sounds of "Revolution 9" came out of their stereos for the first time. While adjectives such as "bewilderment" or "confusion" probably are safe bets, The Beatles had been sowing seeds of avant-garde & outside influence in their music since they introduced the sitar on Norwegian Wood in 1965, moving to tape loops and backwards tracks and exploratory (if not self-indulgent) recording techniques on Revolver, Sgt. Pepper and Magical Mystery tour, and they'd been nothing if not progressive since day 1. All of them had experimented in making their own home-studio recordings of weirdness, and while they hadn't completely committed to putting out something like this in a traditional commercial sense, once John had Yoko's encouragement to stretch out to new artistic horizons, all bets were off. He was staying true to his art and following his muse, and Beatle fans were invited to come along for the ride. 

Our first taste of this is "Revolution 9," an 8 minute plus journey through playful and terrifying soundscapes, spoken word, and tape loops, with roots from the original extended take of "Revolution 1." The final product is a auditory journey through John's idea of the sonics of actual revolution: chaos, explosions, backwards sounds, eerie melodies, screaming, stereo spectrum panning creating a dizzying effect. Over 40 loops pass through the tape heads at EMI's Abbey Road studios, each faded in and out of the track in real time by John, with help from Yoko and George. It's truly a one-of-a-kind performance, using the studio as an instrument, both musical and one of chaos. And while it may have caused many listeners to ask "why?," if you look beyond the obvious, there's more important questions to ask, and more joy to be discovered. Why would an artist who's work I so admire put out something I don't get? Why don't I get it? What are my expectations, and are they fair to the artist? The more time you spend with a track like this, the more you can start to see those things and begin to appreciate the track. I, for one, appreciate that this is maybe the only song that you can never hear the same way twice. It's like a choose-your-own-adventure book, but in a song. I also like that it's essentially a non-visual soundtrack. You can listen to it and picture every element of it in your head, all are total mysteries until you imagine what's passing through your eardrums. And to add to it all, they've dropped this slice of musique concrete on a pop album that ended up in like, 30 million homes. Arguably one of the boldest and bravest artistic moves ever. The Beatles could be absolutely fearless, and what sums that up more than this?

It only took a few days of the Get Back project for George to lose any real optimism he may have entered it with. Malaise, indecision, and ego had been building for a while, and as they took root in the project, George took to pen to put down his feelings towards his song-writing bandmates’ (and humanity in general’s) egos and selfishness, the minor key “I Me Mine.”

In the end, the track only features the lineup that would go on in the 90s to be coined The Threetles, as John was on holiday and already had announced his intention for a divorce, but George, Paul and Ringo turn in a pretty great performance. While it could’ve been approached as little more than a loose end to tie up, they bring their A-game, from George’s lead guitar which moves from elegant acoustic to aggressive electric and his fantastic lead vocal performance, to Paul’s smart addition of the rock bridge, all held together by a really artful drum track from Ringo. It’s one that really hits the mark. Even Phil Spector doesn’t overstep the line here, making the right call in extending the arrangement, and not overdoing it with the orchestra and choir.

Note: This episode was originally taped several days before the release of "Got To Get You Into My Life (Second Version/Unnumbered Mix)" from the upcoming Revolver Super Deluxe reissue. We reconvened several days after that track's release to discuss the alternate version, and how it not only compares to the original, but how it changes our perceptions of the track. That conversation has been added to the end of our ranking discussion. 

One of the defining traits of Revolver is the vast differences between its' songs. The sessions started off with John's psychedelic masterpiece "Tomorrow Never Knows," and then moved from the paisley, trippy world to the sunshine and R&B bombast of Paul's "Got To Get You Into My Life." He must've known it was full of potential, as he lead the band through 2 different arrangements of it, then sat on it for several weeks before landing on the song's iconic horn arrangement. As we learn recently though, that melody was around as part of a full band, guitar melody. Yet one of Paul's strengths has always been pulling the most out of a song's potential, and he does it swimmingly here. It's a bright, confident blast of Stax/Motown-influenced R&B, yet feels distinctly like something that would come out of swinging London in the summer of '66. One of my only wishes was that the final version had more of the full band energy in it. And wouldn't you know it, as soon as I say that in a podcast episode, days later, a version with the full band gets released!

ALSO: At #133, yeah, I totally blew it. I don't know what I was thinking when I ranked this song #133. Mea culpa. I humbly offer my apologies on this gross misstep. 

Following the flower power vibes of 1967, 1968 found the Beatles diving into transcendental meditation, looking inward, and grounding themselves back to the real world around them, which was getting pretty tumultuous. A back-to-basics vibe that was moving through the music scene, combined with John's growing want to speak his mind on current events (aided by the artistic awakening he was experiencing with his new girlfriend, Yoko Ono), lead to the creation of "Revolution 1," a slow bluesy shuffle explaining John's desire to see the oppressive systems around the world crumble, but also his uncertainty of what to do once they fall. His want for this to be the band's next single lead to the creation of a faster, uptempo, unnumbered version that would be released as the b-side to "Hey Jude." Elements of the over 10 minute jam that became "Revolution 1" would get repurposed for John and Yoko's avant garde tour de force, "Revolution 9." 

"Revolution 1," however, was John's original statement, his artistic intent. He wanted the song slow so the lyrics were upfront and easy to understand, but to me the song's opioid-induced tempo kind of undercuts the message. The track itself is really interesting. It's a crisp, acoustic rhythm guitar provided by George, grounding the back-to-basics idea, but that idea gets undercut by lead guitar and loops and sounds that run in and out of the track. It's just as much a studio concoction as it is a band performance. John isn't sure if he can be counted in or out, and neither is the band just yet, as to whether they want to return to their roots. 

The yin and yang of Lennon and McCartney are rarely so perfectly on display as they are in the chorus of "Getting Better." Paul's eternal optimist, "I've got to admit it's getting better, a little better all the time" runs right up against the sardonic side of John: "It can't get no worse." On this Sgt. Pepper tune, they find meld an upbeat, bouncy melody with darker, quite self-aware lyrics about the worst parts of one's personality, and the human want to better one's self when love is involved. Sometimes we forget these guys are actually human, and made mistakes just like all of us. Though it maybe doesn't add much to the "concept" theme of Pepper, it's certainly a great and catchy song, and a band moment on a record where those full band moments start to become less frequent.

Perhaps the ultimate song written for the purpose of playing it on a beat up old acoustic at a party so you can meet girls (apologies for that run on sentence), "Michelle" was written by Paul back in 1959 for just that purpose. You can easily imagine him brooding in a smokey corner, wearing a turtle neck, and singing an early version of this tune. It get shined up and completed for inclusion on 1965's Rubber Soul, and has become a much-loved, though often maligned Macca classic. I think it's got a whole lot going for it, personally. A fantastic melody, impeccable playing, brilliant vocals...and honestly, I think I blew it on this ranking. I even say so in the episode. Maybe I was just in a mood when I ranked it, but whatcha gonna do?

Joining us this week is Janice Mitchell, author of the brilliantly-titled book My Ticket To Ride: How I Ran Away to England to Meet the Beatles and Got Rock and Roll Banned in Cleveland. Jan's lead a pretty amazing life and experienced some pretty amazing things, and we touch on a whole bunch of them, including this fantastic story her book is based on. Together we discuss her book, this amazing wine & cheese song, Below Deck, and Jonathan butchers the beautiful French language.

If there was any inclination the Fab Four were down to “expand their minds,” by the time Revolver came around, there was very little second guessing. The sounds are out there, backwards, mystical. And on "Dr. Robert," what might have been a nudge and wink previously is now just a punch in the face: THESE GUYS TAKE DRUGS.

Whether it’s autobiographical or a character piece though, it’s a fantastic mind movie, where the band paint a great picture sonically of the good Doctor, while John’s vocal moves to almost Dylan-esque places. On an album wherein the band is really starting to use the studio as an instrument, “Dr. Robert” holds its’ own as a great live band performance, especially with John and Paul’s fantastic vocals being recorded together. Sonically, this is maybe the song that exemplifies to me the brilliance of the sound of the Revolver album, chiming Epiphone Casinos and Vox Amps, thumping Rickenbacker bass. It’s maybe my favorite SOUNDING Beatles album, and this is one of my favorite sounding moments. It’s not a major player in the overall arc of the catalog, but it’s a good one for sure.

If ever a Paul song fit the oft-used descriptor of “jaunty,” it’s “Good Day Sunshine.” A tune written during the Revolver sessions, it’s one of the sunnier moments on an album that sees a bit of a darker side of the Beatles than we’d seen before. It’s maybe not the weightiest thing he’s ever done, but it’s amazing how Paul has the ability to soundtrack human emotions so easily; the song really has the bounce and light and fun of new love and a beautiful day. It’s the part of the ying and yang, the light and dark that make the Beatles so successful.

The break's over friends! We've missed you all, but we're tanned, rested, and ready to rank! Well, actually we're still quite pasty (Jonathan especially), we're still always tired, but we're definitely ready to get back to the business of ranking!

To say the Beatles were working hard in 1964 is more than an understatement. Tours, bbc sessions, t.v. appearances, movies, recording sessions, sometimes multiple of these things in the same day...yeah, it was a lot. So in this situation, one would maybe be excused to not turn out their BEST work. Of course, even the Beatles' not-best-work is still classic, and that's what Eight Days A Week is. It's the first time the band ever took a song to the studio that was incomplete, such was the pace at which they needed to churn out material. It's got all the catchiness and melody of a classic Beatles tune, but it maybe KIIIIINDA feels a bit tossed off as well, in that "too big to fail" way. It's the intersection of the band's need to maintain chart dominance while also starting to experiment in studio and stretch their legs as artists. It's a great tune, for sure, but is it also an early sign to a new direction? A new direction apart?

We've been on a break between seasons, but being Paul McCartney's 80th birthday, we felt we wanted to contribute our little part to the conversation and global love fest. When our friend and previous guest, musician Sean Nelson reached out and asked if we wanted to chat about our favorite Paul songs, it seemed the perfect way to do so. There's certainly no shortage of words being written to sing his praise, but to us, the best way to show our appreciation is with his music. What can be said that hasn't been said 1000 times already? Probably a lot really, there's so much to talk about with the Beatles, especially Paul, who continues creating and working into his's 8th decade.

“If you tried to give rock and roll a different name, you might call it ‘Chuck Berry." - John Lennon

To say Chuck Berry was influential on the Beatles would be an understatement. They covered more of his songs during their career than any other artist, and "Roll Over Beethoven" was in their live set all the way back in 1957. So when recording their 2nd album, With The Beatles, in 1963, and having a bit more say on what songs they would record, it's not surprising they went with paying tribute to one of their heroes with a song that, by this time, was in their DNA. It's an exciting, if a bit controlled, rock & roll rave up, with George in the forefront, handling the classic intro riff with skill and finesse. He gives what might be his best and most energetic sounding vocal of the Beatles early output (he does tend to sometimes sound a bit non-plussed in his vocal delivery), and plays a great solo (even if he kind of muffs a note or two at the end). The band are cooking behind him, especially Ringo, who absolutely drives the track. Chuck's original served notice to the establishment that rock and roll was here to stay, and for a while that was true. Following the late 50's/early 60's more mellow, crooner boom though, when the Beatles brough rock and roll back to the forefront, their cover of "Roll Over Beethoven" serves much the same purpose....a statement piece informing the establishment that, again, rock and roll was here, youth culture was here, and the days of old were gone.

Joining us this week is author, PhD, lifelong Beatles fan (and retired professor) Tim Hatfield. What began during the pandemic as Tim's daily, Beatles-themed inspirational email chain to cheer up friends and family, is now a book, "When We Find Ourselves in Times of Trouble - The Beatles: All Their Songs with Encouraging Words for Challenging Times." It's a fantastic read, finding uplifting and inspirational ideas from all the songs in the band's catalog! We had a great time chatting with Tim, talking about the Beatles' influence on his teaching career and style, passing the torch of a Beatle-influenced world to students, learning his own tenacity in working on the book, faithful cover songs, and what produces an energy in a song that some people hear, while others (looking at you, Julia) may not. Pick up Tim's book on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Beatles-their-songs-encouraging-challenging-ebook/dp/B0974LRBYV. It's a beautiful read.

It’s interesting to think that in 12 months the Beatles had gone from recording almost an entire album in one day, to showing up at EMI’s Abbey Road studio with songs half complete. But by the spring of 1964, needing to finish their 3rd album (which would accompany their first film), that’s just what they did with John’s “Any Time At All.” Coming up with an inventive instrumental bridge in the studio, and a cracking arrangement, the band, George Martin, and the EMI production staff turn in an inspired performance all around for what would be considered by any other band’s standard, a “filler song.” But as with so many Beatles tracks, there’s a lot hiding behind the surface. John’s vocal melody seems to be pulled more from the Paul school of melody writing, with a melody moving all over the place, as opposed to more single or double note melodies where the lyric is the focus, a trait John would lean on throughout his career. It’s a gorgeous line, buoyed by a great low-key verse vocal and a scorching, raspy chorus. A swinging Ringo groove (while on the verge of collapsing from tonsillitis the next day), a chiming George 12 string, and great support from Paul on bass and piano (as well as figuring out the instrumental bridge), and that classic 1964 Beatlemania production shimmer all add up to a filler track that probably would’ve been a hit for any other band. The icing on the cake is the rare example of a single snare hit that’s just as much a hook as the chorus itself. All in all, it’s a great song (aren’t they all), but by no means the best they’d come up with. But oh man, isn’t it exciting?

Riding a serious creative hot streak in 1967, Paul was inspired by the "mystery tour" trips of his younger years, a bus trip to an unknown destination, and developed an idea for a film version of that, starring the Beatles. Of course, being the psychedelic year of 1967, it'd be magical, a Magical Mystery Tour. In needing a theme song or fanfare for the project, not dissimilar to what the band needed for the Sgt. Pepper album a few months prior, the band put together a bombastic track, with rocking drums, blasting horns, and multiple tempo changes. It's great to hear the band ROCK in 1967, and the horns are just piercing and powerful. The sped up vocals add to the trippiness of the affair, and it has a wonderful fade off into the mysterious unknown. It's does a great job as a theme song for MMT, both the film, and album (or EP), but as far as "a song" it doesn't necessarily carry much weight. But as always, it's fun, it's catchy, and it's exciting...it's the Beatles, after all isn't it?

It's no secret that John Lennon was often trying to fill the hole left his parents' absence. His need of a father figure had definite impacts on his relationships with men his senior and of perceived power, like Brian Epstein and George Martin. The same could be said about Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Once turned on to his teaching, John immediately dove into his teachings of transcendental meditation and was eager to study at his ashram. Stories (along with video and pictures) show John jockeying for proximity to the guru, most comically when he made his way into the lone passenger seat of the Maharishi's helicopter ride, later telling the others he hoped that he might "slip him the secret." So when it appeared that Maharishi may not be the more-than-mystical figure they'd thought him to be, John's wrath was quick and sharp. It was in the taxi ride out of Rishikesh that he began singing a VERY explicit melody to himself about Maharishi, George Harrison asking him not to be quite so brutal in his lyrics. In changing the subject from a man accused of sexual misconduct to "Sexy Sadie," an imaginary woman who made a fool of everyone, he may be doing a disservice to both the song and himself. That said, it's a fine song, however, to me, it feels uncomfortable in inself, never quite settling in. The recording was incredibly labored over, hours and hours of overdubs, arrangements and effects recorded and removed. In that light, it makes one wonder if that's maybe an attempt to distract from a story John maybe wasn't quite as upset about months later.