Here, There & Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles by Geoff Emerick

I found this unpublished blog entry from 2016 and thought it was interesting,  so here it is:

Just started reading Here, There and Everywhere : My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles by Geoff Emerick, which looks to be a fascinating tome.  And I thought it'd be nice to keep track of the songs as he mentions them.  So I did.  Here ya go.

1.  "How Do You Do It" by Mitch Murray


After recording this song, Emerick reports that John told George Martin, "Look, George . . . I have to tell you, we really think that song is crap."

And then they played "Love Me Do" for him.
While looking for a clip of that song, I decided to see if there were alternate versions (alternate to the album version, that is), and happened upon a video (HERE) which discussed the three versions of the song, each with a different drummer.  

2.  "Love Me Do" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney

The Pete Best "Love Me Do" (which is pretty clearly a rough demo):


The Ringo Starr "Love Me Do" (or more properly, A Ringo Starr version, as I am absolutely sure that this isn't the recording of the song referred to by Geoff Emerick):


The Andy White version (I think; the more I search this thing the more confusing it gets--lots of conflicting information):


But what seems to be true according to both my reading and my ear is that the Andy White version has a tambourine playing on the drumbeat (played by Ringo . . . how humiliating must that have been?) whereas the Ringo version seems to be just drum.  It's hard for me to hear, but after several listens I think I can actually discern the difference.

3.  "P.S. I Love You" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney


And that--"Love Me Do" / "P.S. I Love You" was the Beatles's first single . . . unless you count the "My Bonnie" / "The Saints" single they released with  Tony Sheridan . . . which you shouldn't.  

By the way, there are a couple of anecdotes that I can't resist putting down here . . . though I'd intended this to just be an annotated discography thing.  Say Lavy.  

This kind of sums up the whole Beatles phenomenon in my mind:
"It's almost embarrassing to admit today, but what struck me most about the Beatles when I first saw them was their skinny knit ties.  In fact, I remember making a comment to Richard about them at the time, which drew him to the window to have a look for himself.  A few weeks later, we both bought similar ties and wore them to work; within a short time, it seemed like everyone at EMI was wearing them."

And I have long thought that Paul McCartney wasn't given proper credit for his contribution to the Beatles, so it was good to read this:  
"And then there was the bass player.  He was not only the most conventionally handsome of the four but was also the most friendly and engaging--at one point, he even nodded a hello to Richard and me.  He was also clearly the most interested in how the recording sounded.  Though he didn't raise his voice like the lead singer did, I had the distinct impression that he was the leader of the group.  When he spoke, the others listened intently and invariably nodded their heads in agreement, and before each take, he was the one urging them on to give it their all."

Geoff Emerick also talks about how Paul was much more precise in terms of telling the engineers what he wanted the music to sound like.

4.  "Please Please Me" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney

Apparently there are at least a couple of versions of this as well, and while trying to track them down I happened upon this very energetic live version, said to be from one of their first concerts in America--in Washington, which I presume means D.C.


Okay.  I think this is the Andy White version, since I'm not hearing a tambourine:




To Be Continued . . . . 

Or, actually, probably not.  From there we just kind of plop into the first album, and this turns out to be not as interesting as I'd hoped it would be in terms of searching out rare or unknown songs and alternate versions, etc.  So that will be that.  Though here are a few Wikipedian facts about that first album that I thought were kind of cool:  The whole album was recorded in less than one day--and also included an unused version of "Hold Me Tight."  The Beatles began working at 10:00 am on Monday, 11 February 1963,  the number of takes varying on each song, and finished at 10:45 pm—less than 13 hours later.  Also, each Beatle collected a £7 10s (£7.50) session fee for each three-hour session; there were three sessions that day, so each Beatle earned £22.50 for their work--less than $36.  

Peace out.

Again, Southeast Christian Church

Third trip to Southeast Christian Church yesterday, first without P & first with Q & O. 1 Neither of them were too sure about this deal, as they rarely go to any church other than St. Williams with mom and St. James with me, but I really thought that they would like the music, so I asked and they acceded.  On a contingent basis.  I wanted to make sure that Q, especially, was comfortable, since she tends to be less elastic than O, so before the service began I told her that we could leave early or anytime that she wanted to leave.  She immediately said she wanted to leave, but when I suggested that we at least listen to one song she agreed.

She continued to tell me that we were going to leave early during the run-up to the start of the service, but once the first song started she seemed interested.  About halfway through the service she said something to me that I didn't hear, so I put my head down to her lips and asked her what she'd said.  She blew me away when she said, "I appreciate you bringing me to church."  I don't think she has ever said anything like that before.  And then I started to hear her voice, small and hesitant at first, during the hymns.  Or songs, I'm not sure that they're hymns.  

We stayed until the end of the service.  Even after a bunch of "I've got to leave and beat the crowd to the parking lot" people streamed past us.  

So there's that.

It's funny how my attitude towards Southeast Christian has changed so completely.  I used to laugh when people called it "Seven Flags Over Jesus."  I used to nod when people talked about how it was just a place people went to so that they could make contacts to use in business.  And I used to think the very idea of a church so big was ludicrous and wrong.

Then I took the little Js to the Shine Dance last year, and I was astounded at how many of the members of the congregation showed up to help out, and about how joyous they were.  And I could only guess at how much money had been laid out for this party for special needs kids, most of whom probably didn't even go to the church.  It was about as pure a Christian act as I've personally witnessed, and it moved me greatly.  

It didn't turn me stark raving Christian or anything like that.  But it did make me reevaluate myself in terms of how quickly I'd judged the place even though I'd never been there.

Now I've been there three times, and I've always (1) been greeted cheerfully by multiple people, (2) felt comfortable--not like an intruder, as I've felt in many of the churches I've visited, & (3) been moved by the sermon.

The sermon this time out particularly surprised me.  It was very challenging.  The basic message was, You shouldn't sit on your ass while people close by are suffering.  And it had barbs.  I didn't agree with everything that the minister had to say by any means . . .  and I thought that there were some internal contradictions, logical by-passes, etc. . . . but for the most part I thought it was a powerful message, and one that was actually very Christian in the best sense of the term.  (As in something that Jesus Christ wouldn't mind being said.  I don't think many of the sermons I've heard in the past half a century could pass that muster.)

Also, there were three or four blind people with dogs who came to the service.  Q found this quite interesting, and this morning she said to her brother, "Some people are blind in church."  Which I found (1) poetic & even elegant, (2) pretty interesting on a metaphysical level.  If I could just have her language, I think I could write a truly great novel.

I think we'll be going back to Southeast Christian church.  


1   Funny, I was just proofreading this thing prior to hitting the Publish button (I occasionally do that, which may be difficult to believe . . . but you could help out if you'd holler when you catch a typo) when I realized that these letters are in alphabetical sequence . . . which is just an interesting thing, don't think it qualifies as coincidence, much less synchronicity.  But I've always referred to Jacqueline and Joe as Q and O here, respectively . . . initially because I was incognito, and here just because I felt like it.  And P is Pat, my friend.  So it's not like I engineered it or anything.  Oh, shit . . . this is only interesting to me, isn't it?  Sorry.  Shutting up now.

色彩を持たない多崎つくると、彼の巡礼の年 by 村上 春樹

Only two more chapters of 色彩を持たない多崎つくると、彼の巡礼の年 to go now, so I'm guessing one more day / bike ride will do it.  It hit me today that one of the strange things about this novel is the way that the dialogue is written.  It seems very awkward at times, and almost non-sequitor-ish in the exchanges.  Characters say things and I think, "Why would anyone say that?"  Which kind of makes it both less and more realistic simultaneously.  Less for the obvious reason, but more because people really do speak that way.  Mostly because they usually don't listen to each other.  

But I'm enjoying this story quite a bit.  The New York Times Book Review Review said that the audio-book version was excellent because of the way the narrator reads the novel--without emotion, distant--and I'm glad that I took the advice . . . and that Scribd had the audio-book available.  

One of the things that resonates with me is the idea that most of what we do in this life is bullshit.  Not that  村上 春樹 comes right out and says that, but I think it's implied a number of times.  Like when Tsukuru is thinking about people commuting, using as much as three hours of each day to get to and from their workplaces.  And how that was probably not only lost, wasted time, but that it probably also eroded the person's energy for other things as well.  So much of life is going from one room to another room, talking about shit that we don't even vaguely care about, etc.  So what happens when you strip all of that bullshit away?  What's left?

I'm working on it.

Biking / Scribd Audiobook Coincidence Number 4

My current bouting book (thanks, Scribd) is Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami, which I am enjoying immensely.  (I'm sorry to say that I have yet to finish a Murakami book.  I was reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and really getting into it, but it got to something so gross and disgusting that I put it down and never picked it up again.)  Today's "reading" included a description of a character's cell phone ring as being a snippet of Elvis's "Viva Las Vegas."  There was also a bit of chat about the movie / song accompanying that detail.  Three hours later I walked into Barnes and Noble and headed for the magazine racks.  As I settled into position, two of the employees walked by, and one said to the other, "I love Elvis.  "Viva Las Vegas" is my jam."