http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/65098-the-beatles-white-album-40th-anniversary-3/
The Beatles' White Album 40th Anniversary
[19 November 2008]
by PopMatters Staff
9. Martha My Dear
Primary Songwriter: McCartney
Recorded: October 4-5, 1968 at Trident Studios
A friend of mine once fell for a girl because when faced with an
incomplete yet impressive catalog of Beatles songs in a pub jukebox,
she chose this song. He needed no further convincing, beyond her
beauty and charm, that she was the one for him: her choice of a deep
cut rather than an overplayed hit proved she was unpredictable; her
endorsement of something so explicitly Paul spoke to a sweetness
typically absent from the alcohol-dictated arc of a barroom playlist;
and her weakness for melodic jaunts into falsetto was not a weakness
at all, actually, but a badge of honor to wear, proudly, while
bounding back to the table in sync with the song's spritely rhythm.
It's those sudden falsetto lift-offs that really make "Martha My
Dear" so irresistible: "Look what you've done!" and "...with each
other, silly girl!" That, and McCartney's
blossom-within-a-blossom-within-a-blossom melody, which moves through
three distinct sections, each more rhythmically aggressive and
infectious than the last. (And we should take a moment to remind
everyone that yes, the song's subject shares a name with McCartney's
Old English sheepdog; since the singer addresses her as "you silly
girl", we can assume the song is an ode to a family pet, because why
would a grown man speak that way to a woman? OK? Kinda like how "Got
to Get You Into My Life" is about pot.) The first section ("Martha,
my dear...") sounds like a combination of a barrelhouse piano vamp
and British music hall; the second section ("Hold your head up, you
silly girl...") brings in the pumping brass, which attempts to ground
McCartney's increasingly lightheaded melody; and the third section
("Take a good look around you..."), a rock-band arrangement tackles
an unexpectedly minor-key twist.
"Martha My Dear" was recorded soon after the band finished "Happiness
Is a Warm Gun", and as Ian MacDonald suggested in his book Revolution
in the Head, "it's possible that McCartney, his musical funnybone
tickled by his partner's eccentricities, here set out to create
something equally tricky for his own amusement". It's not as
serpentine a song as "Happiness", but it does sound blessed with the
same kind of budding creativity, as if the songwriter were
discovering music for the very first time while in the midst of
writing the song. It's one of the handful of songs on The Beatles
that McCartney knocked out on his own: he laid down the instruments
and vocals in two days at Trident Studios, even having extra time to
work a little on "Honey Pie" while he was at it. It's pure McCartney
all the way, this pretty little autonomous nugget that, like so many
of his contributions to The Beatles, served as a prelude to imminent
solo albums like McCartney and Ram.
I love the image of McCartney walking into the studio late one
afternoon and hammering out this tune, as if it were an
afterthoughtan aside, a thing of lesser consequence. Of course,
"Martha My Dear" is none of these things; it's yet another precious
metal hidden in The Beatles' rough. And if someone puts this on the
jukebox at your neighborhood bar, then proceed directly to his or her heart.
Zeth Lundy
--
10. I'm So Tired
Primary Songwriter: Lennon
Recorded: October 8, 1968 at Abbey Road
The best thing about "I'm So Tired" is that it's a perfect example of
Lennon just being Lennon. The song was written in Rishikesh, and
expresses Lennon's growing ambivalence about the Maharishi and the
experience in general. Apparently, all the meditation was, of all
things, causing Lennon insomnia. A couple years after the trip, he
said, "the funny thing about the camp was although it was very
beautiful and I was meditating about eight hours a day, I was writing
the most miserable songs on earth". Part of Lennon's grumpiness here
is due to his missing a couple of his usual vices. As a listener, you
become privy to the push-pull going on in Lennon's head. "I wonder,
should I get up and fix myself a drink?" he asks, before answering
his own question with a harried, "No, no, no!" Later, he admits,
"Although I'm so tired, I'll have another cigarette." But instead of
getting down on himself for giving into the vice, he goes after the
man who helped popularize tobacco in the first place: "...and curse
Sir Walter Raleigh, he was such a stupid git". Even in such a
befuddled, lethargic state, the acerbic wit is sharp as ever. "I'm So
Tired" is often compared to "I'm Only Sleeping" from Revolver. Some
of the general sentiment may be the same, but there's something far
more complex, even sinister, going on here.
Lennon thought his material for The Beatles was some of his best. The
authenticity in Lennon's vocal definitely backs up that claim. By the
time he sings, exasperated, "I'd give you everything I've got for a
little peace of mind", you believe that at that moment, he would,
custom-painted Rolls and all. How like Lennon to become so tortured
on a soul-searching, meditative retreat. It's not his fault that in
expressing his feelings he may have inspired a hundred latter-day
rock stars to bitch about their rock 'n' roll lives.
Musically, "I'm So Tired" is fairly straightforward. Though parts of
the original demo, including an extra verse, were trimmed, the track
was recorded in a day's work. Lennon's shifty state of mind transfers
perfectly to the music. To whatever extent they were "working solo"
at this point, the Beatles remained peerless interpreters of each
others' songs. The soulful, laconic feel of the verse shifts to the
dirty, bluesy chorus like a rollercoaster cresting the first big
hill. Starr's drumming lends to the illusion of a tempo change
before, as musicologist Alan W. Pollack notes, McCartney's nonchalant
little bass riff ushers the solipsism back in. And catch the
agitation behind the bass/organ squawk at 1:54...one in an endless
list of the Beatles' "little touches". At the time, Lennon's
muttering at the end of the track was factored into the whole "Paul
Is Dead" conspiracy. What he's saying, perhaps, is "Monsieur,
monsieur, how about another one?" All this happens in about two
minutes. Part of why "I'm So Tired" remains a favorite "White Album"
track, and was one of Lennon's, is those two minutes are wonderfully,
quintessentially him.
John Bergstrom
--
11. Blackbird
Primary Songwriter: McCartney
Recorded: June 11, 1968 at Abbey Road
On an album that came to be known as the "White Album", "Blackbird"
might rightly be subtitled McCartney's black song. This is because
the tune is said to have been inspired by America's racial troubles
in the spring of 1968lyrics like "take these broken wings and learn
to fly" can easily be applied to the African-American struggle at
that time. The Civil Rights Act of 1964, passed four years earlier,
banned discrimination in employment practices and public
accommodations. There was also the Voting Rights Act of 1964, which
restored and protected voting rights. Then in 1968, the Civil Rights
Act of 1968 passed, which banned discrimination in the sale or rental
of housing. Yet despite all this progress, Martin Luther King was
assassinated in April of 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee. Riots
subsequently broke out in more than 110 cities across the United
States in the days that followed. These hot spots included many major
metropolises, such as Chicago, Baltimore, and Washington, D.C. These
birds may have been freed, so to speak, but their wings were broken
by a gut-wrenching assassination and then trampled on the ground
during angry riots.
But it wasn't just King's assassination that frustrated many
African-Americans. African-Americans may have had their legal rights
properly restored, but economically they were still down at the
bottom rung. This is why Malcolm X's aggressivenot
passiveresistance found such a huge following. It's also partially
why the Black Panther Party came into vogue. Malcolm X preached "by
any means necessary", because civil disobedience simply didn't finish
the job. Certainly, one didn't see white America crowding the ghettos
in large American cities. Equal rights did not immediately lead to
equal economic standing, which forced many winged ones to sing "in
the dead of night".
Against this backdrop of anger and pain, however, "Blackbird" is a
beautiful song. If you listen closely to McCartney's acoustic guitar
finger picking on it, you can hear how Bach's Bourrée in E minor
inspired its melody. In fact, McCartney and Harrison tried to learn
that Bach piece as kids in order to show off their budding guitar
skills in front of of other aspiring musicians. Guitarists will
immediately recognize how melody and bass notes are played
simultaneously on the upper and lower strings, and how McCartney
adapted a segment of Bourrée for the song's intro. He also applies
this musical motif throughout the tune.
While this lyric alludes to the Civil Rights Movement, it can be
easily applied to almost any situation where somebody is struggling
against the forbiding odds. At one point McCartney sings, "Blackbird
fly / Into the light of the dark black night." Even in the shadow of
death, so to speak, there is always a glimmer of light. McCartney
takes on the role of an encourager when he sings these words.
Circumstances may be bleak, but he believes in this struggling one
and wants to see him or her overcome.
"Blackbird" fit with its time, but it also attained a sort of
timelessness. You don't need to know McCartney's original musical or
lyrical inspirations to appreciate it. Furthermore, acts ranging from
the Waterboys to Eddie Vedder have covered the song over the years.
Clearly, its message has remained relevant, and its melody continues
to move listeners. And to that we say fly, blackbird, fly.
Dan MacIntosh
--
12. Piggies
Primary Songwriter: Harrison
Recorded: September 19-20 and October 10, 1968 at Abbey Road
Even though Lennon was known as the political Beatle, Harrison proved
for the second time in the Beatles' catalog that he, too, had
political chops with "Piggies". The song, intoned as a humorous
social satire of class dynamics, serves as the perfect follow-up to
his scathing review of the British taxation system on Revolver's "Taxman".
The delightful Baroque-influenced tune, featuring harpsichord and a
four-piece string quartet, is a wonderful offset to the lyrical
content, which on first listen is light enough in itself, but upon
second glance shows its deeper meaning. Lyrically, Harrison's
Orwellian piggies are broken down into classes: the working class
"little piggies" and the upper class/aristocratic/political "bigger
piggies". As life continues to get harder for the little piggies, the
bigger piggies continue profiting and leading ever more extravagant lives:
Have you seen the little piggies
Crawling in the dirt
And for all those little piggies
Life is getting worse
Always having dirt to play around in.
Have you seen the bigger piggies
In their starched white shirts
You will find the bigger piggies
Stirring up the dirt
And they always have clean shirts to play around in.
And in their styes with all their backing
They don't care what goes on around
And in their eyes there's something lacking
What they need's a damn good whacking…
Despite the difficulty the Beatles were going through during this
time period, all four were involved in recording "Piggies". Starr
provided tambourine and McCartney purposefully went with a more
plucking-style bass line to imitate the sound of pigs grunting.
Lennon did not contribute instrumentally, although he helped with the
tape-loop pig gruntings that were used throughout the song and
recommended that Harrison change the final line from "Clutching their
forks and knives to cut their pork chops" to "Clutching their forks
and knives to eat their bacon". The new play on words gave the bigger
piggies an even darker tone; instead of just hurting their own, they
cannibalize their brethren.
Harrison's mother, Louise, also contributed to the lyrics,
recommending the most violent of the lines"What they need's a damn
good whacking"when Harrison was looking for something that would
work with the previous line, "In their eyes there's something lacking".
Surprisingly, the version that appears on The Beatles was not the
song it in its entirety. Harrison's final verse was left out of the
studio cut and was only re-instituted in his concerts in the 1990s.
The song, including the additional verse, can be heard on Harrison's
Live in Japan album:
Yeah, everywhere there's lots of piggies
Playing piggy pranks
And you can see them on their trotters
Down at the piggy banks
Paying piggy thanks
To thee pig brother.
Although Harrison never intended the song as anything more than
humorous commentary, upon the album's release in November 1968 many
people took the lyrics to be an attack on the police thanks to the
animal chosen to represent humanity in the song.
Unfortunately the song took on even more of a sinister tone in August
1969 when Charles Manson used it as one of the prophesy songs he
"heard" within The Beatles. Manson saw the song, along with a handful
of others, as a "call to arms" to his family of followers and in the
racial war he had long been predicting. This uprising, which became
known to Manson as Helter Skelter (see also "Helter Skelter", on side
three), was, in Manson's eyes, the time for black people to give
white people the "damn good whacking" he thought they were due. As
the summer progressed and his vision wasn't coming to pass, Manson
felt he would have to start things off by showing the wayby means of
starting the murders on his own.
During the murders of Sharon Tate, Leno and Rosemary LaBianca, and
four others that Manson instructed, his minions left references to
the song lyrics throughout the murder scenes. At both houses, "pigs"
and "death to pigs" was written in blood on the victim's walls and in
the LaBianca murder, Leno LaBianca was stabbed and left with both a
fork and knife in his body.
Many consider the Manson murders to be the end, or death knell, of
the summer of love. For these events to have been tiedeven if just
through the mind of a crazed and off-kilter fanto the Beatles
catalog, a band who espoused nothing but love and peace, was in
itself a true crime.
Stacey Allen
--
13. Rocky Raccoon
Primary Songwriter: McCartney
Recorded: August 15, 1968 at Abbey Road
The Beatles is that rare breed of album where eccentricities and
curiosities, like an acoustic Western ditty about spurned love and
revenge, can fit in simply because they stand out. The inspiration
for "Rocky Raccoon" hit McCartney while the Beatles were visiting
India in the late '60s. An Eastern influence, though, is not anywhere
evident. "Rocky Raccoon" is a thoroughly American number, complete
with a backwoods setting, shootouts, hoedowns, a copy of the Bible,
and dubious health care. It almost plays like a send-up of a Johnny
Cash tune about the failed wiles of a likeable underdog.
Its frontier-folk nature even compels McCartney into character. He
drops the refinement and light Britishness of his usual vocal in
favor of rootsy, more roughhewn inflections. The way he mumbles
through "black mining hills of Dakota", his down-home delivery of
"that boy", and his mispronunciation of "Gideon" ("Gidjin") all
insert McCartney, as a sympathetic narrator, into the song's comic
theatrics. His bumbling-bard persona is of a piece with the mood and
spirit of "Rocky Raccoon".
The story itself is a well-worn account of shame and jealousy-sparked
revenge, or the attempt at it anyway. Young Rocky Raccoon, a
good-hearted if impetuous chap, loses Nancy Magill, "the girl of his
fancy", to another guy named Dan. With a shiner on his face and bad
blood in his heart, Rocky plots his vengeance. It would be a showdown
at the camp hoedown. But Dan proves a quicker draw and shoots Rocky
first, leaving him laid up and in the brief care of a boozy doctor.
Down and out, Rocky ends his hoped-for reckoning by defiantly vowing
a comeback.
McCartney collaborated with Lennon and Scottish folkster Donovan in
fleshing out the concept for "Rocky Raccoon". The broad outline is
fairly standard but it's in the story's seeming marginalia, its
tossed-off narrative details, that this trio of delightfully
whimsical and imaginative minds brings the song to life. Like how the
divine seems to maintain a watchful presence in the form of Gideon's
Bible or how Rocky intends to harm Dan by shooting off his legs.
Perhaps the funniest scene is when the doctor, "stinking of gin",
arrives to aid Rocky and immediately lies down on a table himself.
These are the sort of quirks that aren't unexpected coming from a
late-'60s McCartney composition but they still surprise with their
blithe oddity.
As a piece of music, "Rocky Raccoon" is exquisitely textured, though
it takes its time in achieving that form. It develops gradually, with
McCartney's acoustic guitar initially at the center, garnished by
Starr's light high-hat crunches and Lennon's (unusual) go at a
thudding six-string bass, which, when emphasized, sounds like a brass
section. The smoky grayness of the song's beginning then gives way to
an inventive flow of lively and colorful instrumentation: short
spurts of harmonica, George Martin's slinky, saloon-style piano on
the bridges, and warm patches of an accordion-like harmonium. The
story of Rocky's travails is too screwy for just an acoustic folk
backdrop. That wouldn't have done him justice. And this is an album
where sonic simplicity isn't often the preferred method.
All added up, this is a tune full of charm, wit, and oddball pop
pleasure. The Beatles were peerless in their capacity for such
songwriting. But can you imagine it without the snappy name "Rocky
Raccoon"? Would it have been so lasting and memorable under a
different title, like "Rocky Sassoon", which was McCartney's original
idea? He later determined that "Raccoon" was more cowboyish and,
thus, a better match. In fact, the pairing of "Rocky" and "Raccoon"
perfectly captures the character's mix of macho bluster and lowly
inadequacy. It's absurdly well-calibrated. Rocky is a lovable buffoon
who, from the outset, doesn't appear likely to prevail and probably
won't learn his lesson after he falters. The name "Rocky Raccoon"
renders him an open book. But the details of his story and the
baroque sounds that accompany it are far from predictable. That is
truly the hallmark of The Beatles as a whole. It careens, it
deviates, it undermines, and it positively wows. The Beatles may have
been in collapse, but their art was still soaring.
Barry Lenser
--
14. Don't Pass Me By
Primary Songwriter: Starkey
Recorded: June 5-6, July 12 and 22, 1968 at Abbey Road
Originally called "Ringo's Tune" and also "This Is Some Friendly",
the ditty that ultimately became "Don't Pass Me By" was the first
solo song written by Starr that the Fab Four ever recorded. Although
the album was recorded in 1968, Starr probably wrote the song years
earlier in either 1963 or '64; indeed, bits of the song are heard on
a 1964 BBC radio broadcast in which Starr and McCartney discuss its
beginnings in their interview.
Fans of Starr commonly claim that his songwriting talents go
underappreciated. But we have little material to judge his talents
by, at least in the context of the Beatles. "Don't Pass Me By" and
Abbey Road's "Octopus's Garden" are the only Beatles songs Starr
wrote by himself, and therefore the only pieces we have to judge his
skill. Fans, digging deep, claim the song's simplicity is endearing,
that the lyrics are telling (the line "You were in a car crash and
you lost your hair" can be, with some stretching, a reference to the
"Paul Is Dead" urban legend), or that the lively performance
solidifies its importance in the scheme of the rest of the album.
Critics, of course, use the song merely as further proof of Starr's
lack of talent in comparison to his bandmates' much more innovative
songwriting.
"Don't Pass Me By" is certainly distinct compared to its fellow White
Album tracks, possessing a bluesy, folk-inspired bounce. At 3:50, it
is the second-longest track on the first disc. But its simplicity (it
follows a very basic blues progression, utilizing only three chords)
makes it difficult to claim that it holds any real importance,
especially compared to The Beatles' more experimental or progressive
cuts. However, it could also be said that it is this simplistic form
that allows for the freedom found in the track's brief bits of
improvisation, both by fiddler Jack Fallon at the song's end, and
also in Starr's short, tinkling piano introduction.
The significance of "Don't Pass Me By" is entirely subjective, and
ultimately the decision of the listeners themselves. There are a few
fans out there who will argue to the end that, although this song is
neither technically impressive nor musically innovative, it is most
certainly enjoyable. In the context of the avant-garde loops of
"Revolution 9" or the poignancy of "Blackbird", "Don't Pass Me By" is
a different ballgame if not a completely different sport. But in many
ways this is the beauty of the The Beatles, and perhaps "Don't Pass
Me By" should simply be seen as what it isif not a triumph for Starr
himself, then at least a necessary and vital piece of an undeniably
triumphant whole.
Elizabeth Newton
--
15. Why Don't We Do It in the Road?
Primary Songwriter: McCartney
Recorded: October 9-10, 1968 at Abbey Road
"Why Don't We Do It in the Road?" is posed lyrically as a question,
one of the few Beatles songs that uses this popular rhetorical
convention in a title. However, although the lyrics provide no
answers, instead just repeating the question over and over again, its
musical form does. The song is fundamentally a meditation on
simplicity. Not simplicity for the sake of being simple, but rather,
as an antithesis to the emotionally and intellectually convoluted
ways we overanalyze everything. For McCartney, what we most
frequently overanalyze is that which we hold most dear: our intimate
and sexual relationships.
Invoking the simplest possible approaches to rock 'n' roll
songwriting, namely two lines of repeated lyrics and the classic
12-bar, 1-4-5 chord blues progression, the song is less than two
minutes long and features no solos or musical bravado, just
McCartney's progressively rowdy vocals. The song's simplicity is a
testament to its message, which challenges, and even demands us, to
answer this fundamental question: Why do we complicate things so
often? Whether it's sex, politics, religion, or art, why do we
complicate life with our emotional attachments? McCartney's
aggressive singing conveys his mounting frustration with this
all-too-human limitation.
Interestingly, the only lyrical line beyond the title is the
occasional repetition of "No one will be watching us", suggesting
that one key problem in human sexual relationships is our
surrendering to social pressures. Given the proliferation of sexually
explicit media in today's society, and the pressures those
assumptions and stereotypes place on men and women, McCartney's
message is as prescient as ever.
McCartney's inspiration for the song occurred while traveling in
India. Noticing two monkeys copulating in a street, he mused over the
simplicity of their act when compared to the emotional warfare humans
experience while making love or maintaining a relationship. Quick,
uninhibited, and emotionally neutral, those horny monkeys inspired
something profound in McCartney. Unlike animals, which copulate for
reproductive purposes, our complex relationships to sexuality in
profound ways shape our personalities. "Why Don't We Do It in the
Road?" is Paul's public lamentation about this paradox: Why should
something that feels so good cause us so many problems? Of course, in
the midst of the '60s sexual revolution, such a message gained
instant resonance.
The song's recording also prompted controversy among the increasingly
more fractious supergroup. Since McCartney played bass and lead
guitar, sang the vocals, and recorded the song without Lennon's or
Harrison's knowledge, and since only Starr contributed anything else
(drums and handclaps), Lennon in particular was angry. According to
McCartney, Lennon and Harrison were busy recording two other "White
Album" songs, "Glass Onion" and "Piggies". The song took five takes;
take four, a slightly tamer version of the song, is available on The
Beatles Anthology 3.
Chris Justice
--
16. I Will
Primary Songwriter: McCartney
Recorded: September 16-17, 1968 at Abbey Road
Side two of the The Beatles has always been my favorite. My love for
it has grown enormously since age three when I was first amused by
the hog grunts in "Piggies". The variety of styles on side two has
kept me listening, as does the meaning I've collected about each song
over the years. The stupefying number of directions those nine tracks
take are like passports for nine completely different
mini-excursions. No two songs are at all alike. It's a thrilling ride.
Despite the kaleidoscopic nature of the material, there is continuity
to how it's sequenced, with one song picking up right where the last
leaves off. Even after years of listening to side two, there are
aural reference points that stir excitement about the sequence of the
songs. Hearing the sound of birdsong on "Blackbird" signals that the
merry harpsichord melody that starts off "Piggies" is only seconds
away. Try to isolate any of these songs and see how difficult it is
not to anticipate the song that follows it.
The dynamic between the order of songs and the aural space between
them is what makes "I Will" such a startlingly beautiful moment after
the cymbal crash that closes the raunchy blues bump 'n' grind of "Why
Don't We Do It in the Road?". In a way, the contrast between the
unbridled lust and romantic love between these two neighboring cuts
make interesting bedfellows. McCartney's carnal cry gives way to a
cool croon. His incessant demand to "do it" becomes an ode to
lifelong devotion.
Or does it? "I Will" boasts one of the sweetest melodies McCartney
has ever sung but it's easy to take the lyrics for granted. I've
always felt that, for what is ostensibly a love song, the words were
a bit ambiguous in their sentiment. The third verse, the one that
begins "Love you forever and forever", gives the song its de facto
wedding vow connotation, but the first two verses and the closing
fourth suggest that McCartney's woman is more a romantic vision than
an actual person, or someone he's merely glanced at rather than
spoken to. "For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name", he
sings in the second verse. It's his hope that imbues the song with
romance and just a tad melancholy. He will wait a "lonely lifetime"
until at last he finds this elusive love. Doesn't necessarily mean
happily ever after, does it?
Still, I argue that it's much more fun to be swept away by the charm
of the song rather than get buried under by any despondency that
might be interpreted. "I Will" is certainly the coziest sounding song
on The Beatles. The unpretentious knock-and-shake percussive sounds,
the chunky rise and dip of the bass line, the crystalline guitar
strumming, and, of course, McCartney's creamy vocal performance
create 1:46 of musical ambrosia. It also sets-up the quiet hush that
envelops Lennon's "Julia", which closes side two.
On an album that is, arguably, the most revolutionary in the Beatles'
catalog, "I Will" is a moment of tranquility. Forty years later, it
offers an escape to a romantic vista where the sun never sets on the
hope that love is everlasting.
Christian John Wikane
--
17. Julia
Primary Songwriter: Lennon
Recorded: October 13, 1968 at Abbey Road
Clocking in at just under three minutes, "Julia" is the last song on
the first disc (or side two of the LP) of The Beatles. It is the only
song recorded solely by Lennon on any Beatles record (and the final
song to be recorded for The Beatles). Lennon sang and played acoustic
guitar, and though attributed to Lennon-McCartney, the song is a solo
Lennon composition. One of the last songs recorded on the album,
"Julia" was written during the Beatles' trip to India in 1968. In
fact, while on the same trip, Donovan and Lennon spent a great deal
of time playing the acoustic guitar together and it was Donovan who
taught Lennon the finger-picking style he uses in the song.
An ode to Lennon's mother, "Julia" is a song of longing and sadness.
Lennon was raised by his Aunt Mimi, having only limited contact with
his mother growing up. However, in his teenage years, they
reconnected and began to spend more time together. Her sudden death
(she was hit by a bus) when he was 17 was a shock, and the loss of
his mother would go on to serve as inspiration for songs throughout
his life. He has said of the moment when he learned of his mother's
death: "It was the worst thing that ever happened to me."
While ostensibly about his mother, "Julia" also references Ono in the
line "oceanchild calls me", as Yoko means oceanchild in Japanese. The
song also contains a reference to Khalil Gibran's The Prophet in the
opening line, "Half of what I say is meaningless / But I say it just
to reach you / Julia." The Gibran line is, "Half of what I say is
meaningless / But I say it so that the other half may reach you."
Lennon's altering of the line makes it more pleading and in keeping
with the rest of the song.
Lennon's gentle repetition of "Julia" throughout the song evokes a
dreamlike, almost ethereal feeling in the way that it often trails
off from one lyric into the next, overlapping words. The technique of
using double-tracked vocals and fading one as another line begins
lends an ephemeral air to the song, further emphasized in imagery
that speaks to the temporary, such as "windy smile", "floating sky",
and "sleeping sand". Perhaps no line echoes this sentiment better
than "When I cannot sing my heart / I can only speak my mind /
Julia", as it speaks to the limits of communicating his thoughts.
His hushed vocal delivery coupled with the tenderness in which he
sings the words makes "Julia" one of Lennon's most intimate songs.
Lennon repeats the line "So I sing a song of love / Julia" five
different times emphasizing the simple intent of the song. Regardless
of the beautiful imagery and oblique references, at its heart "Julia"
is Lennon's love song to his mother and it stands as one of the great
songs on The Beatles, as well as one of Lennon's most heartbreaking
and heartfelt performances.
Jessica Suarez
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