I treated myself to a copy of Peter Jackson’s film about The Beatles, Get Back, and I have to say that it was well worth the money.
Jackson had taken all the film footage and audio tapes from The Beatles experiment in filming the production of a new album, and rehashed it all to make a new film. It wasn’t the most successful of artistic endeavours when it was conceived in 1969, but there was an album and a film made back then, famously called Let It Be, and of course it spawned what turned out to be The Beatles last live performance together.
So what did Jackson do to make this film better than the original? Well, he used a whole lot more of the film footage, his film is very long, and he was somewhat more sympathetic in his treatment of the obvious cracks that were appearing within The Beatles group. He also used the opportunity to highlight The Beatles at their creative best, albeit that it was during quite a brief period, and their ability to churn out a seriously good live performance with seemingly little effort.
The original concept of putting the boys in an empty film studio to practice their songs for a new album was flawed from the outset, largely because I don’t think the group was consulted. The acoustics were terrible, there was no PA system for them to hear what they sounded like, and there was no means to record anything. When they abandoned the film studio for the recording studio in their Apple Corps HQ in London, where they had everything they really needed, the creativity really took off.
Jackson also ably described the reasons George Harrison walked out, and what the others did to get him back again. For lots of reasons, the balance of the group had been changing, and McCartney was assuming a dominant role. When he and Lennon were forced to look at why Harrison had left, they realised that the group had lost its equilibrium and they needed to restore it, if only to get the project finished. In coaxing Harrison back, and promising to address the issues of equal input, the group found its best again and produced some absolutely amazing work, and in a very short time. To watch the process when it was functioning well was really quite astounding, and there was a real glimpse into why The Beatles were so successful.
The culmination of the project, and not what was originally planned, was that famous last performance on the roof of their building in London’s Saville Row. It was a good performance by anyone’s standards, but to see how they arrived at it, with two of them not committing to do it until the morning of the performance, was awe inspiring. As The Beatles they did all get to the roof, and they did some great numbers in the cold of a January afternoon, proving just why they had been so great. The people in the street who heard the music thought it was great, or most of them did, and the Police looked embarrassed at having to call a halt to the performance after some complaints about the noise. All in all, though, it was a great way for The Beatles to sign off.
The film also pointed to the direction that the four individual Beatles were heading when The Beatles were no more. I for one came away thinking that the group’s breakup was almost inevitable, and that it wasn’t a bad thing. Of course we have lost two of the group now, and the other two really should think of retiring. Whatever may have happened, though, if you’re a fan of The Beatles, or even just a lover of pop music, I’d highly recommend this film, but make sure you’re sitting comfortably first.
In just a few days It’ll be forty-three years since John Lennon was murdered. Yes, I can remember exactly where I was when I heard the awful news.
I was born early enough to remember the early Beatles singles hitting the charts, but too young to be out buying records or going to concerts. I was only eleven when they broke up, and yet they form an indelible mark on my life, and I listen to their music regularly. Indeed, with the advent of YouTube I have been able to enjoy recordings of them playing live, and in adulthood have really come to appreciate the energy those young men put into their work. But then I’m an old fart, so you’d expect it perhaps.
I am amazed, though, how my step children, and my three-year-old grandson, are similarly smitten with the music that was created decades before their birth. The three-year-old can name each of the Beatles when he sees them on TV.
Oddly, I don’t think you can’t blame me or their mother for the youngsters’ enjoyment because they picked up their interests from their peers, not us. What is it that makes teenagers today not only take the time to listen to The Beatles, but actually buy their music, and listen to it repeatedly? I’m darned if I know, other than for the fact that The Beatles were the right people at the right time.
As for us old farts, well I listened to the entire Sergeant Pepper album while I was tidying up, just a few days ago. It’s timeless, and I knew all the words to all the songs, and yet I found myself reexamining the lyrics to Within You Without You and marvelling and how good they are. See, they still move me.
We visited Liverpool a couple of weeks ago and were just very slightly wrong-footed at the continued commercialisation of the Beatles story. That didn’t stop us taking Beatle photographs and buying Beatle gewgaws, though, us and many others. It’s an oft used cliché, but what a time to be alive.
On Friday I will give the great John Lennon some extra respect, listen to some of his work and continue to be amazed at just how good he and his friends were to have endured like this.
Liverpool. Beatle Country. Somewhere we’d always been reluctant to visit, but now having committed to go, the forces of evil tried very hard to prevent us from getting there.
We had planned a train ride from Huddersfield, about half-an-hour’s drive away from Holmfirth, to Liverpool Lime Street station. The day before the trip, though, I had an e-mail to say that the train we were booked on, and the return train, were cancelled. A wise woman of our acquaintance had suggested this might happen, so we were disappointed but not too surprised. The train company did at least offer some alternatives, one of them being a refund, and after some deliberation we decided on that option.
In sorting out a refund, the rail company, Trans-Pennine Express (TPE), demanded that I supply all the relevant information, which I duly lifted, word for word, from the e-mail they sent me. I then had to send them a scan of the evidence. We hadn’t collected our actual tickets, so I sent a PDF scan of the e-mail I’d used to copy down all the information they wanted. The e-mail, that is, that TPE sent to me in the first place. They promised a reply within 28 days. 28 days? They have systems to swiftly take money from you, but giving it back, when it was they who cancelled the train, seems to require a massive amount of nugatory effort on my part. Bastards. *Late news: The refund was approved and paid in under two weeks.
Our alternative plan was to drive to Liverpool South Parkway station, close to Liverpool’s John Lennon airport, where there was a big, free car park that we could leave the car, and enjoy a train ride into the city. Before we set off from Holmfirth, I heard on the news that trains were further disrupted at Huddersfield that morning after a landslip. Driving was the only option then, obviously.
On arrival at Parkway station, there wasn’t a single space left in the car park, not one. I spoke to the fellow at the information desk, and he said that it’s full at 8am every weekday. So much for using public transport.
Yesterday I had gone off the idea of parking in central Liverpool after reading a couple of reviews of car parks there. Liverpool has a poor reputation for petty crime, and stealing from cars was high on the list. However, the good Mrs. M looked at Google again and suggested some of the Waterfront attractions car parks might work. So, Navi reprogrammed, off we set towards the city centre. After a slight issue when we thought there was no parking available at our chosen destination, we saw there was a gated car park, half-empty, right next to the Royal Albert Dock. Undoubtedly it wouldn’t be cheap (it turned out to be £11, the same price as two train tickets), but for the sheer convenience of it, this was going to be worth it.
I’d never been to Liverpool, so to see the regenerated waterfront with plenty of people around, even on a cold and wet November morning, was most encouraging. First things first, though, a visit to a toilet was on the cards, and possibly some refreshment.
We went into a store that sold nothing but Beatles memorabilia, looking for the advertised Fab Four Café. It turned out that both the café and the store were at the end of a Beatles exhibition which we wouldn’t have the time to see. No matter, though, we used the toilets had some coffee (or Fanta) and listened to the endless loop of Beatles music. Even the loos were Beatle-themed, and the music was on a different loop in there.
The waterfront attractions looked good, but I did want to go to Matthew Street, in the town, to see the Cavern Club, where the Beatles first made their mark on the British music scene.
A wet walk through the city was interrupted by an odd visit to a key cutting shop. I’d stopped to admire the huge range of shoe cleaning products there, when the good Mrs. Mayne decided she wanted some big, heavy keys to go on a key ring she’d bought earlier. First she had to persuade the bemused looking key cutter that she wanted to buy two blank keys. I don’t know that anyone had asked for that before, especially not a wet tourist. Having established that she would buy the keys without having them cut, the man behind the counter supplied the keys and we set off into the rain again, leaving the bemused proprietor scratching his head. But it didn’t end there. The good Mrs. Mayne really wanted the blank keys cut, so when I’d found an old key in the recesses of my bag, she hot-footed it back to the shop to have her new keys cut. I wouldn’t go into the shop again, preferring to stand out in the rain and watch the Liverpool office workers on their lunch breaks. Fair play to the missus, though, she now has two keys, cut to a lock that I don’t even know exists still, but at least she’s happy.
Matthew Street and the Cavern Club were a disappointment. The street is narrow but is crammed with all things Beatle. The weather wasn’t great, but it was dark and dingy and, basically, full of tat. The Cavern itself was charging £5 each for entry, plus £2 to take your coat. There were three, yes three, bouncers crowding the tiny lobby, so I decided not to go in. I was happy enough to have my photo taken there. Perhaps I’d go in when there was some live music on, but it all felt a bit crap. I have no doubt that Matthew Street was always a bit shabby, but the Beatles crap everywhere really didn’t help. I guess that’s people making a living, though.
Despite the rain, we walked back to the waterfront. We decided against a trip on the Mersey Ferry (You’re already humming the tune, aren’t you?) and started back towards the Albert Dock. Unusually for me, I got caught short and had to make an unaccustomed dash for the toilets, which were further away than I thought. Relief was achieved, though, so then we made for the International Museum of Slavery, incorporating the Maritime Museum. Liverpool played its part in the Slave Trade, and much of the city’s prosperity came from either trading enslaved Africans, or the cotton and sugar their labours produced. The museum was full of kids on school trips, and rightly so. Many of the kids were themselves of distant African origin (a huge assumption on my part, of course), so it was all as it should be. We didn’t have sufficient time to give the place our full attention, and only skimmed the Maritime Museum, but it was well worth the visit.
Our meal of the day was in the Italian restaurant called Gusto. It’s a chain, but the place was OK with a view over the docks. The food was good, too, with plenty of vegan options on the menu. Our server, a very knowledgeable lady from Sardinia (Italy, but I’m sure she’d claim Sardinian first), who helped us out hugely by pointing out our error in ordering two huge starters when one would do. The final bill wasn’t as awful as I’d thought it would be, either, so well done Gusto Liverpool.
We’d headed off to look at a shop within the dock buildings when I realised that I’d left my phone in the restaurant, which started a major panic. Luckily it was still there when I dashed back. As the great Homer Simpson would say, Doh!
Our final act of our Liverpool day was to spend a king’s ransom in the Beatle memorabilia shop. I mean, who doesn’t want a tiny music box that plays Hey Jude?
We really enjoyed Liverpool, with the possible exception of Matthew Street, and could easily have spent a few days there. The people are friendly, and the city’s architecture is really worth a look. The only thing is that you really have to be able to put up with all things Beatle. The Beatles are everywhere, you cannot escape them. I just hope that Paul and Ringo are getting their cut, and that the estates of John and George are getting theirs, too.