We listened to the Beatles channel on Sirius for long chunks of time as we drove back and forth to South Carolina last month, and I got to revisit all the insights that began arising in my brain when I was twelve years old and first heard “She Loves You” in the back seat of my parents’ car: that Paul, with his fabulously jaunty musicality, is a reincarnated vaudevillian; that George was learning to play guitar as we listened (and he learned pretty darn quickly!); that Ringo Starr was one nifty, inventive drummer; that the distinctive tonality of their instruments was a large element in their magic; and that John’s melancholy, insecurity, honesty, and depth awakened me to myself.
My love and appreciation for the Beatles, and especially John — shot dead on December 8, 1980 — has steadily evolved throughout my entire life. I’ve been so grateful to have had such a sustained, formative aesthetic experience in my background — and better, to have shared that experience with half the human race.
As I’ve grown as a guitar player, especially since taking on jazz over the past decade, I’ve often been astounded by their innovative musicianship, even in their early twenties!. Listen, for example, to John’s rhythm guitar on “All My Loving.” It’s very hard to play that rhythm.
And listen to their guitar riffing in “The End,”following Ringo’s simple drum solo (the first he ever took on a Beatles record). The guitar lines go from Paul to George to John — each playing in a style as distinctive as their singing voices. I remember being thrilled by the record when it was released in 1969 (I was 18), thinking, Man o man, they really CAN rock out!
Above all, I was and remain deeply touched by John’s philosophical, introspective song lyrics, which I’ve come to think of as the Lennonzen:
“Nothing you can make that can't be made/ No one you can save that can't be saved
Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time /It's easy / All you need is love”
“I took my lover to a big field/ where we could watch the English sky/ we both were nervous feeling guilty /and neither one of us knew just why”
“When you cross the street/ take my hand/ Life is what happens to you/ while you’re busy making other plans/ Beautiful boy . . .”
“Well we all shine on/ like the moon and the stars and the sun/ yeah we all shine on/ Everyone/ come on”
All that, plus he could sing his head off! And so, at age 71, I still identify with those screaming girls . . .