The Let It Be album was a fairly chaotic, unhappy, unsatisfactory experience for them all–and it ended up being delayed well over a year, for various reasons. Technically, it was their last album, being the final to appear, but it was in fact the penultimate album that they worked on and recorded.
The original idea was to make a film of them recording, which was a good idea, observing them at work, watching them create their music–something all Beatles fans would have loved to see. In the event, they spent most of the recording sessions arguing amongst themselves. George fell out with Paul and John in January 1969, while they were recording, and left the group for a week, but was persuaded back. He was fed up with being bossed around by Paul and thought John was just messing about, not working hard enough. They were arguing about Apple, particularly about Allen Klein, who had been brought in to manage their affairs by John, George and Ringo–but not by Paul, who wanted someone else. By this time they were also each going their separate ways, with their own individual projects–and partners. John and Paul had rows. Then the lawyers were brought in. The whole thing became a sorry, sad mess, something I had never ever expected. I had often morbidly, gruesomely imagined the Beatles all dying suddenly in a plane crash–just because there had been periods in their lives when so many people around them, friends and relations, had suddenly died. I hadn’t expected them to splutter and splinter apart over what seemed to the outside world to be petty, piddling, personal and business differences. Dear God, surely they could have worked it out.
The Let It Be film, when it eventually emerged, allowed us to see the effects of some of these differences, capturing their strained relationships and petty bickering. The film was only 81 minutes long, cut down from miles of material, and its release was endlessly delayed.
The album was also delayed. Allen Klein was not happy with it and ordered several remixes. Then Phil Spector was brought in to add some polish to it, which made Paul furious as he hadn’t been consulted and was upset by what Spector was doing to some of his songs. Paul then announced his departure from the Beatles, though John had already decided he was off, having had enough, but was persuaded not to announce it before a new EMI contract was signed.
So by the time the Let It Be album was eventually released in May 1970, along with the film, the Beatles were no more. The album ‘as reproduced for disc by Phil Spector’–came in a fancy black box set, complete with a 160-page glossy book, mostly colour photos, plus some overheard, rather pretentious chat that took place during the making of the film. The book is entitled The Beatles Get Back, as that was originally going to be the title of the album, and it has the publication date 1969, indicating how long it had been delayed. The original creation and recording of most of the songs on the album had taken place almost eighteen months earlier, in January 1969. In relatively happier times
One of those happy times, as captured in some historic photos in the book, shows them on the roof of the Apple office in Savile Row on 30 January 1969, when they played their last ever live session. Not to a paying public, but to thousands of gapers in the streets below, listening to their live performance–until the police came along and put a stop to it. In the film, and in the photographs, you can see how much they were enjoying themselves, playing together, larking around, amused by such a funny stunt, such a funny location, and also by themselves, having fun together.
Two Of Us
The two were not Paul and John, despite the fact that in the film you see them head to head in the studio, sharing the same microphone, singing away. The two of them were now Paul and Linda, his new loveheart, soul mate, companion. The song was recorded in January 1969, just after they had got back from their Portuguese holiday.
Linda used to encourage Paul to jump in the car, drive off and get lost, as they did in Portugal–and naturally Paul wrote a song about it, writing it as it happened, standing solo, wearing raincoats, then driving home again, singing that we’re going home. There’s a reference to chasing paper, which could be a reference to the Apple mess and all the documents and court cases–but he doesn’t dwell on this. It’s a happy, cheerful, totally straightforward road song–no memorable lyrics, but a proper song, with a chorus and verses.
It’s the first song on Let It Be, but before Paul starts singing ‘Two of Us’, you can hear John announcing ‘I dig a pygmy by Charles Hawtrey and the Deaf Aids (Ha ha ha). Phase one, in which Doris gets her oats…’
Charles Hawtrey was an English actor who appeared in many Carry On films. ‘Getting your oats’ meant sexual intercourse, a phrase you hardly hear these days, modern usage being much more blunt.
Professor Campbell, in his compendium, transcribes these two lines as being part of the lyrics of ‘Two of Us’, but I have ignored them. It is just John playing silly buggers.
The manuscript, possibly in Mal Evan’s hand, is neatly done on Apple notepaper. At the end it says ‘A Quarrymen Original’–a joke, harking back to the days when they wrote ‘Another Lennon–McCartney original’ on every song scrap.
Holiday snap, Portugal, 1968: (left to right) Hunter Davies, Linda McCartney, Paul, Hunter’s wife Margaret, and children.
Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone’s hard earned pay
You and me Sunday driving
Not arriving on our way back home
We’re on our way home
We’re on our way home
We’re going home
Two of us sending postcards
Writing letters
On my wall
You and me burning matches
Lifting latches on our way back home
You and I have memories
Longer than the road
That stretches out ahead
Two of us wearing raincoats
Standing solo in the sun
You and me chasing paper getting nowhere
On our way back home
‘Two Of Us’, the first track on the Let It Be album, released May 1970, in Paul’s hand on notepaper from Apple’s Savile Row office, from the roof of which they did their last performance. Most of Let It Be was recorded at Savile Row.
Dig A Pony
Pure self-indulgence; John was trying to see how far they could make things up as they went along, without preparation. Somewhere inside all the pony, road hog, moon dog nonsense (which John admitted was garbage), and forced rhymes like penetrate, radiate, imitate, indicate, syndicate, there is a half-decent song trying to get out. It surfaces briefly in the two-line chorus where John movingly sings about Yoko: ‘All I want is you / Everything has just got to be like you want it to.’ This suggests that he saw Yoko forever organizing him and their life together–which was roughly true. Paul’s Linda, by comparison, was laidback, let it all hang out, play it by ear, let’s go off and get lost, see what happens–which was also roughly true. This aspect of the character of each of their respective new loves greatly appealed to each of them. John had felt lost and wanted to be led. Paul was fed up with the constraints of being engaged to Jane, and caught up in Apple and the legal problems, being forced to be the leader and boss, as he saw it, in order to get anything done.
The original working title of ‘Dig A Pony’–which doesn’t mean anything–was ‘Con a Lowry’, thought to have been a reference to a make of organ lying around in the studio. I have always wondered if instead it could have anything to do with Brian Epstein’s collection of Lowry paintings (which Brian had bought with the money the Beatles had made for him).
Across The Universe
John’s most poetic lyrics for some time. They appear slightly stream-of-consciousness but are all worked out and make sense, with excellent imagery. Certainly not garbage. ‘Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup… pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind.’
This was a song I heard him struggling with some time early in 1968, perhaps even late 1967, when he was still living at Kenwood with Cynthia, but at the time he only had
a few bars and a few lines. In the Playboy interview he said he had been lying in bed next to Cynthia and she had been reproaching him for something. ‘I went downstairs and turned it into a sort of cosmic song rather than an irritated song.’ He had certainly worked hard on it by the time he came to record it in February 1968, then it was later remixed by Phil Spector for the Let It Be album
It was being recorded on a Sunday, when it was difficult to suddenly order up any backing singers, so two of the so-called Apple Scruffs–girl fans who hung around every day outside Paul’s house or the Abbey Road Studios–were called into the studio to help out, a fantasy come true. All they had to do was sing ‘Nothing’s gonna change my world’ over and over again for two hours. One of them was Lizzie Bravo, a sixteen-year-old Brazilian who had been given a trip to London by her parents as a birthday present, then had stayed on, getting a job as an au pair. (She went on to work in Brazil as a singer and publisher, and is now a grandmother, living in Rio–and about to release her memoirs of her time in London.)
I Me Mine
George in his book of the same name tried to tell us what he was saying in this song, but alas I was little wiser. ‘There are two “I’s”: the little “i” and the big “I” i.e. OM, the complete whole, universal consciousness that is void of duality and ego.’ Hmm.
So I went back to the song itself and decided that what he is saying is that there is too much ego in the world–everyone is saying something is mine, it’s I and me all the time. Which is all perfectly true. But how does he know that out there in the void things aren’t much the same–or worse?
If you didn’t have the words written down, it would be hard to work out what George is actually singing. He rolls the three words together, so it comes out as someone’s name–Hymie Mine.
The manuscript in George’s hand is much neater than his normal writing, as if determined to make things really clear to use in his book.
All through the day I me mine, I me mine, I me mine,
All through the night I me mine, I me mine, I me mine,
Now they’re frightened of leaving it,
Everyone’s weaving it,
Coming on strong all the time,
All through the day I me mine.
(Chorus)
All I can hear I me mine, I me mine, I me mine,
Even those tears I me mine, I me mine, I me mine,
No-one’s frightened of playing it,
Everyone’s saying it,
Flowing more freely than wine,
All through your life I me mine.
(Chorus)
‘I Me Mine’, from Let It Be, in George’s ever so nice handwriting.
Dig It
Really silly and pointless lyrics, with made-up words and lists of names out of their heads or out of the newspapers–such as FBI, BBC, Doris Day. All the names and initials are understandable by most people today, except perhaps for Matt Busby, unless you happen to be a British football fan. He was the manager of Manchester United Football Club.
The song, mercifully, is very short, just fifty seconds, and with only six lines, carved out of a much longer jam session. On the album, you can hear them mucking around, as they did in the film, playing up to the cameras, knowing they were being filmed. At the end of this track, John is heard doing stupid voices at Paul’s expense. ‘Now we’d like to do “ ’Ark the Angels Come”,’ he says in a high-pitched Lancashire Wee Georgie Wood voice–introducing the next song, Paul’s serious and heartfelt song about his mother. Not very kind.
Let It Be
In the midst of all the angst and anger, rows and recriminations during this awful year, while Paul was trying to organize them, sort out the problems and frictions–and getting no thanks for it–he was lying awake one night, feeling paranoid, when he imagined that his mother Mary, who died when he was fourteen, was saying to him, Don’t worry, it will turn out OK. ‘I’m not sure if she actually said “Let it be”, but that was the gist. I felt blessed to have that dream.’
Released as a single in March 1970, before the album itself came out, it is far and away the most commercial number on the album.
While it is almost a pastiche of a choral hymn, with lots of biblical overtones and allusions such as ‘hour of darkness’, ‘a light that shines on me’ and of course the image of Mother Mary, it is nonetheless sincere and moving. When Paul has played it over recent years, the hall lights go down and the audience often light candles, cigarette lighters or hold up their mobile phones to shed light. It does then begin to feel almost like a prayer meeting.
You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)
This was the B side of the ‘Let It Be’ single (though not used on the LP), first recorded in 1967 after completing Sgt. Pepper. Again, they were just larking around, stoned a lot of the time, hence its delayed release. It’s a joke song, a comedy number, a Goon Show pop song. The general public will be hard pressed to remember it now, but its origins are interesting, and amusing. The inspiration was typical of many of John’s songs, some of which turned out to be excellent, whose words were taken from other sources, in this case a telephone directory.
The London 1967 phone book with the slogan ‘You have their name? Look up their number’, which inspired John.
John was in Paul’s house, waiting for him to arrive, when he noticed a copy of the London phone book for 1967 lying on the piano. On the front cover was the slogan: ‘You have their name? Look up the number’.
John started playing with the words, and soon came up with a rhythm. Later, in Abbey Road Studios, he told Paul he had a new song, the title of which was ‘You Know My Name, Look Up the Number’. When Paul asked to hear the lyrics–John told him that was it, there were no other words.
In recording it, repeating it over and over like a mad mantra, they ad-libbed some jokey remarks, introducing Paul by saying ‘Welcome to staggers’ and ‘Let’s hear it for Denis O’Bell’. The initial recordings were abandoned, and it was not worked on again until Let It Be–but nobody bothered to tell Denis O’Dell, a producer friend of theirs who had worked at Apple and on A Hard Day’s Night.
When the single came out, O’Dell suddenly received a torrent of late-night phone calls from drugged-up hippies in California. Then groups of people, sometimes as many as ten, started arriving at his door, having tracked down his address, saying they were coming to live with him. He was forced to go ex-directory.
I’ve Got A Feeling
The first side of Let It Be finishes on a burst of ‘Maggie May’, a traditional Liverpool song which they used to perform in their early years. John’s heavy Scouse accent is supposed to be funny but is a bit embarrassing.
Side two begins on ‘I’ve Got A Feeling’, which was originally two songs, one by Paul the other by John, knocked into one–just like in the good old days. They are both in fact good songs.
Paul begins it with the feeling he’s got deep inside; obviously about Linda. John eventually comes in, telling us that everybody had a hard year. Which was true. Apart from all the long-running Apple rows, he had got himself arrested for drug possession and Yoko had a miscarriage. But he tries to keep his chin up, mocking himself in clichés like ‘pull your socks up’, ‘let your hair down’.
After their individual bits, Paul returns with his song while John counterpoints in the background. It ends on a sort of ‘Day In The Life’ crescendo, although not as intense. The lyrics do have some sexual references–such as ‘wet dreams’, and at the end you can hear John saying ‘it’s so hard’–which were not in their early love songs.
One surviving manuscript, in Paul’s hand, is only a scrap, but it gives a snippet of each song. The other is longer, but does not have John’s contribution about their hard year.
‘I’ve Got A Feeling’, from Let It Be, the verses Paul wrote, in Paul’s handwriting.
I’ve got a feeling, a feeling deep inside
Oh yeah, Oh yeah. (that’s right.)
I’ve got a feeling, a feeling I can’t hide
Oh no. no. Oh no! Oh no.
Yeah! Yeah! I’ve got a feeling. Yeah!
Oh please believe me, I’d hate to miss the train
Oh yeah, yeah, oh yeah.
And if you leave me I won’t be late again
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Yeah Yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah.
I got a feeling.
All these years I’ve been wandering around,
Wondering how come nobody told me
All that I was looking for was somebody
Who looked like you.
I’ve got a feeling that keeps me on my toes
I’ve got a feeling, I think that everybody knows.
Oh yeah, Oh yeah.
Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh yeah.
Yeah! Yeah! I’ve got a feeling. Yeah!
Ev’rybody had a hard year.
Ev’rybody had a good time.
Ev’rybody had a wet dream.
Ev’rybody saw the sunshine.
Oh yeah, Oh yeah. Oh Yeah.
Ev’rybody had a good year.
Ev’rybody let their hair down.
Ev’rybody pulled their socks up. (yeah.)
Ev’rybody put their foot down.
Oh yeah. Yeah!
Oh my soul
Oh it’s so hard
One After 909
The Beatles Lyrics Page 31
