Beatlemania
Beatlemania
Beatlemania has always been something of a mystery. True, these were four handsome young men, stylishly dressed, who made great records; but why the hysteria, the extreme adulation? No other band or individual has ever come close, before or since. It seems hard to believe, a kind of collective madness. I think the answer lies in their distinctive personalities joined together into a single unit (musical and personal). John was the tormented artistic intellectual, verbally adroit. Paul was the sentimental musically gifted showman, hard not to like, slightly annoying (the way he tapped his foot on stage). George was the muted diffident one, a mystic, a recluse, relatively mediocre, yet intriguing. Ringo was the regular guy, nothing special, solid, dependable, not even a great drummer, no heartthrob. It was always a question which Beatle you liked best, because each stood out from the others. But the harmonies, the chemistry, the camaraderie! Four different personalities melded into a single incandescent entity—unity in diversity, the transcendent whole and its parts. The mixture was irresistible. Hence the screaming and crying, the absolute devotion. But the disparate elements could only stay together for so long till the cracks began to show. What caused Beatlemania caused Beatle-disintegration. Individually, they could not produce Beatlemania; together it was inevitable. It wasn’t really a mystery—it was predictable and explicable. The Beatles will always exist in our minds as a group, an assembly of contrasting elements, a frail symbiosis.[1]
The Beatles and I go back a long way. I bought their first album in 1963 and listened to it over and over; I still know it by heart. The covers were even better than the originals (“Anna”, “Chains”, “Twist and Shout”). Then I bought the second and third. We played their songs in my group (The Empty Vessels), though we could never get them to sound right. I paid a lot of attention to Ringo, being a drummer myself. I saw them on TV all the time, once at the local airport in Blackpool. I wore Beatle boots (stolen from me in a public dressing room). I changed from an Elvis-do to a Beatle-do. When I won the English prize at school, I asked for the two John Lennon books. The works. They finally broke up in the late sixties. I lived on 72nd Street in New York and frequently walked past the Dakota, never without a sinking of the heart. I would never get to meet him… Then, years later, when I learned to sing, I rediscovered the Beatles—and this began a new and deeper phase of my Beatlemania. Because in learning their songs (nearly all written and sung by Lennon) I entered into the beating heart of their appeal; it became personal for me. I almost felt like a Beatle. First it was “Anna” (written by Arthur Alexander); then it was “This Boy”, always a favorite and the height of my ambition as a singer (I must have sung it over a thousand times by now). Then, with my singing teacher, “I want to hold your hand”, “You’ve got to hide your love away”, “In my life”, “Please Mr. Postman”, “It’s only love”, “Money”, and so on. Recently I discovered “Leave my kitten alone”, a John rocker, which I didn’t even know existed before. Oh, I have sung along with John Lennon many times! I tried “Yesterday” but just couldn’t hack it (sorry, Paul). I do like to do “Love me do”, which is pretty Paul-ish; also “Blackbird”. I can probably sing at least thirty Beatles songs—something I never did in my teenage band days. So, Beatlemania is real for me. I read both of Paul’s and George’s songbooks; I’ve read lengthy biographies of the Beatles. I feel I know them all very well. Whenever I sing “This Boy” I feel at one with them, especially when I get to the “middle eight” (“Oh, and this boy would be happy just to love you, but oh my-y-y; that boy won’t be happy till he’s made you cry-y-y”). The Beatles were everything they were cracked up to be. Beatlemania was a thing.
[1] Mick Jagger used to describe the Beatles as “the four-headed monster”. This is apt because it emphasizes the plurality of heads as well as the unity of the resulting supernatural monster (or god).
I was reading recently that Ringo was left handed, but forced to write with his right. He had a right handed kit, but started his fills with the left hand – it probably gave him a particular sound. Yes he certainly wasn’t a virtuoso on the drums (I think his only Beatles solos were on the 2nd side of Abbey road), but I find virtuosity a bit tedious and Ribgo’s style was far more supportive of great songs.
Macca was left handed to John’s right so they could mirror image each other when song writing.
I don’t think beatlemania was totally unique, Tommy Steele, Cliff Richard and of course – Elvis could inspire delirium. After God’s demise it seemed that people still wanted something to be delusional about, a wierd belief that we have all had at some point – that music was somehow spiritual, otherworldly.
I think Ringo’s style was perfect for the Beatles; Keith Moon would have been a disaster. You had to be alive during Beatlemania to appreciate it; it went far beyond anyone else, in Britain anyway. Sex was a big part of it.
Yes, sex definitely a big part of it.
I seem to recall a controversial story in the Bhagavad Gita of Krishna being surrounded by gopis (groupies?) and making a duplicate of himself so they could set upon it so to speak. Anyway I mention this as it’s an example of sex and religion not being quite so opposite. It was sex, but it was also worship.
Maybe religions tend to be so puritanical because religion itself is a form of sex. All that love thy neighbor and worship the all-powerful God and sadomasochistic imagery. There is no lack of sex in Greek mythology.
FWIW my favourite is their “Come together” — it happens to be Ringo’s favourite and one of Lennon’s favourites as well according to Wikipedia. And this song is a true collaboration between all four musicians. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Come_Together
“Hold you in his arms, yeah you can feel his disease”. Drumming and bass excellent. My favorite Beatles cover is probably “Please Mr. Postman”.
You’re right Colin. I was there. They were the biggest; maybe of all time. In their pomp people just couldn’t get enough. They were main news, at least in the UK, almost daily. Demand was overwhelming for a piece of the Beatles, (often literally). And it wasn’t just youth, they had an appeal for all ages and classes, to a greater or lesser degree. I’ve seen nothing like it before or since.
The music: Take Lennon’s hoarse, almost primordial, exhortation, “well shake it, shake it, shake it, baby now” – Unforgettable hysteria.
The look: Those boots, ‘cubans’, desired by me immediately when seen descending aeroplane steps with immaculately cut slim trousers and a red satin lined ‘Nehru’ jacket.
Thanks. Great blog, kept me entertained and educated over the holidays.
In addition to the public Beatlemania, we each had our own private Beatlemania. I certainly did. If you don’t know it, I recommend listening to their “Leave my kitten alone” (on the Anthology), which will bring it all back. I sing it all the time.
The Beatles are sui generis, that is they just got the part, without sitting for an audition. You tell me, would the Stones been the same, the Kinks, Dylan, the Doors (that’s all I can manage to muster into a list) would disco have come about the same way? The sixties would probably have hit us, just not the same way. The counterfactuals reach out into politics, into poetry, for all I know into economics- but not into quantum physics or topology- they woulda been the same- maybe Vietnam would have ended differently, maybe Reagan would not have spearheaded a reaction against progressives, maybe PCs and Apples and the internet had happened differently- it’s easy to drown in a flood of speculation
The Beatles were un-inventable, un-describable, and un-stoppable. They were everything.