anotherkindofmindpod

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Happy Birthday, Paul McCartney (b. 18th June 1942)

And when I think that all this stuff, Can make a life, it's pretty hard to take it in, That was me.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Can we talk about the Rosetta Stone of heavily coded love language songs written by our favourite dysfunctional trinity; AKA the founding members of the original Uncool Bermuda Triangle Of Doom: John/Yoko/Paul and “(Just Like) Starting Over”?

Of course, it’s officially a song for Yoko, John is on record as saying it’s a song for Yoko, but to my ears, it’s a musical giant placard marked FOR PAUL!! (With a red sharpie heart around ‘Paul’)

From the thematic style, the extremely loaded choice of words, John’s Elvis crooning, the reminiscent rock n’ roll melody, right down to the announcement at the end of the song for a flight leaving for ‘London, England’, oh and OF COURSE the ‘spread our wings’ line… it just seems like a basket of Easter eggs to get Pauls attention.

It’s the “our life, together is so special, together” that gets me. It’s the theme of togetherness that seems like a defining motif of the John/Paul partnership in the good times, and what they desperately plea for in the bad. I see Starting Over as literally that, going right back to the beginning, to when they were teenagers and declaring their devotion and commitment to one another before setting off on adventures: “we’re gonna leave, take the next bus out of town” in “I Don’t Know/Johnny Johnny” . It was such a passionate declaration of: wherever we’re going, whatever we’re doing, we’re doing it together” . The warm, protective, safe space that they had created, where they can escape their past and take on the world; a John/Paul cocoon, The Nerk Twins within The Beatles - the nucleus within the atom - full of love, security and magic.

When the shit hits the fan - aka the critical juncture of 1969/Let It Be - ( I’m going to call this the second act, purely so it fits in with my theory!), Paul tries nostalgia to coax John back ‘home’ to the little nest he’s feathered - Population: Two (Of Us). Obviously, that doesn’t work out…

BUT! Just over a decade later, it sounds like John is feeling sentimental and nostalgic and has made up his mind to get back on that bus. Uh, I mean, airplane!

So this is how I see (Just Like) Starting Over as the third act, and borrowing the concept that the crux of a trilogy is for the story to go right back to the beginning, but this time viewing with a fresh perspective, he says:

“Let’s take a trip somewhere far, far away

We'll be together all alone again

Like we used to in the early days “— he is ready for a renewal of their adventures, but with an assurance of how they are wiser now; ‘we have grown’.

Whatever I’ve read online has firmly fallen in the ‘It’s for Yoko’ camp - purely because it’s a love song, so of COURSE it can’t be for Paul, right? A few admit it could be for Paul , but only as an admission that John wants to reunite with The Beatles.. (which I can kind of get behind)... But no-one anywhere is discussing the audio of the studio sessions, where he riffs around during rehearsal , because if this is a song for Paul, it’s a revelation:

‘Well everybody’s making love, why can’t we be making love, it’s easy?

Just take your clothes off honey, and stick your nose in money.

Why don’t we… do it in the road?

A little hotel where we used to screw

A motel down in Montauk; just you, me, the cook and the servants too’

Whoever the person on John’s mind is, it’s evident that he wants a revival of what sounds like a pretty hot, romantic and sexual relationship. The ‘stick your nose in money’ line is… interesting. I wasn’t aware of John having a bone of contention over Yoko and finances, (did he?) but wasn’t this one of his major gripes (and often mentioned grouses) over Paul’s ‘secret’ purchase of more shares of the Northern Songs catalogue? It’s a risky move to try and woo back a lover by dredging up a decades long grievance, but that’s our nonconformist John, I guess??

The doing it in the road line is.. kind of self explanatory? As for the hotel .. it didn’t seem like John and Yoko’s courtship was necessitated by sneaking off to conduct an illicit affair - they seemed pretty prominent from Day One of getting together, but it does put me in mind of the much mentioned Paris trip for John’s 21st birthday:

‘the little hotel with the nice bed’ that Paul still talks about to this day.

Granted, the motel in Montauk is kind of home turf for J&Y so I’ll concede that , but as for the rest of it…

My sticking point was learning that this was written at the same time, in Bermuda, that John wrote ‘Grow Old With Me’ - a loving ode from a husband to his wife. So the rational argument says.. both songs were written to the same person. But you have made the astute observation that John held Yoko in one hand and Paul in the other, so is it just my bourgeois mind that struggles to see that John could be saying to Person A: I want to recommit to our marital devotion to one another, whilst simultaneously saying to Person B ‘I want a renewal of our romantic adventures’ and that’s just how he rolls?

Nb, 1980 John unhelpfully throws a spanner in the works of this theory, because his attitude in interviews seems to be: “Paul who? Never heard of the guy, don’t think much of him, whoever he is, but whatever, who cares? I certainly don’t”.

Either way, it’s heartbreaking to hear the optimism and excitement in his voice, given the timing of the song.

I would love to know your thoughts! Am I totally wrong?

Hello dear friend! ❤️

In a nutshell, I think John wrote songs in 1980 about and/or to Yoko; I also think he wrote “craft” songs about an ideal marriage or a fantasy marriage that never actually existed.

And I absolutely believe Starting Over was written for Paul  :)  

This guy summed up my thoughts on John & Yoko in 1980 pretty well:

“It was an art project. The marriage was an art project. And AS an art project, it was fabulously successful. It presented an image of a sexist man who acknowledged his own anger, acknowledged that he “used to be cruel to his woman,” acknowledged all of that stuff. Subsuming it, sublimating it and becoming something else: trying to maintain a relationship of equality with a strong woman. And that continues through Double Fantasy. 

The facts almost don't matter. Because the image is a very, very strong one, and it would take a clearer rebuttal than we're ever going to get to destroy that image.”

I mean, the album has the word FANTASY in it, for crying out loud!  If that's not a winky face emoji of an album title, I dunno what is.

John specifically said he loved the phrase for its multiple meanings including "a double couple." (x) I'm curious... WTF is a double couple??!  Is it "John & Yoko" AND "John & Paul" ??  I've never heard anyone ever use that phrase before. 

Here's the thing about John... I don't think he is ever 100% comfortable spewing bullshit. So while he is willing to engage in a massive PR spectacle in 1980, he also drops little truth bombs here and there.  I think in 1980 John still gets mad at Paul, still gets competitive with him, still has resentments from 1966 that they never ironed out. So you'll hear those in some of his interviews. But I also think he absolutely adored Paul and wanted both Paul and the world to know it, and you can find that in interviews, as well.

I suspect trying to glean details from songs can sometimes be misleading (b/c sometimes songwriters take poetic license for the sake of the rhyme/groove/etc), but "when I see you, darling, it's like we both are falling in love again" is pretty much the most romantic thing ever.  When I see you isn't a detail to me, it's clearly about someone John doesn't see much (but when he does, all the feelings come rushing back).

How in the WORLD is John going to say anything other than Starting Over is for his wife, his co-creator, the woman he's kissing on the front of the album?  People will naturally just assume it anyway.  But Paul will know.

Expecting him to SAY it's about Paul is beyond unrealistic.  Anyone who argues that "if John didn't say it, it can't be about Paul!" is arguing that artists are incapable of writing things that are too difficult or dangerous (or just too embarrassing and tender) to discuss in public. Obviously that's not the case.

That said, the "it's for Yoko" interpretation is, of course, perfectly valid.  But my read is that Starting Over makes MUCH more sense as a love letter to an "old, estranged fiance."

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Paul & leadership, musically & otherwise

Link to masterpost of quote compilations

When Paul came in[to the band], things started to get a little bit more serious. Paul’s father had actually had a band, Jim Mac’s Jazz Band, so Paul was much more aware of the career possibilities than any of the rest of us were, because here his own dad had had a band. So things got a lot more structured and serious when Paul arrived. You can tell that by looking at the photograph of us in July ’57, when we were at St Peter’s Church, a bunch of guys in checked shirts, and in November ’57, when you have John and Paul in smart white jackets and everybody in little bootlace ties. I mean, already Paul’s influence was evident, you know?

Rod Davis (of The Quarrymen), interview w/ Gillian G. Gaar for Goldmine: Before they were Beatles, they were Quarrymen. (November 28th, 2012)

COLIN: Paul would have allowed John to feel that he was the boss anyway. Paul wouldn’t have gotten head to head with John, but Paul would have got his own way if you’d like, carefully, by maneuvering and perhaps letting John think it was his idea. I think that’s the way Paul was. LEN: I think it was part of his characteristic, really. Part of his characteristic. You know, when we started off as The Quarrymen, we were a gang of scruffs, we could dress whatwe’d like, checked shirts, anything we would like. But I’m pretty sure it was Paul’s idea that one night at Clubmoor we dressed a bit smarter – you know, the white coats and the black ties. I think – it wouldn’t be John’s idea. John was more interested in the music and the entertainment. “We can dress what we like as long as we’re enjoying ourselves.” But I think Paul was more... I don’t know. Image-minded, you know. Worried more about the image. COLIN: Paul was very much the diplomat. He would never get a quick answer off Paul. He would always think about what was the right answer; not what the answer should’ve been, but perhaps what you wanted to hear.

2003: The Quarrymen talk about Paul

“I can well remember even at the rehearsal at his house in Forthlin Road, Paul was quite specific about how he wanted it played and what he wanted the piano to do. There was no question of improvising. We were told what we had to play. There was a lot of arranging going on even back then."

John Duff Lowe pianist on their first ever recording, In Spite of All the Danger

“During one Cavern performance of ‘Over the Rainbow’, John leaned back on the piano, pointed to Paul, burst into raucous laughter and shouted, “God, he’s doing Judy Garland!” Paul had to keep singing in the knowledge that John was pulling crips and Quasis behind his back or making strange sounds on his guitar to interrupt him. Yet, if Paul stopped in the middle of the number, John would stare around the stage, the essence of innocence. […] Paul took such behavior from no one but John, but also he gave it back and was strong minded enough to carry on doing what he wanted, knowing how much the audience liked it. He sang these songs well, and added one more to the portfolio at this time, the Broadway show number ‘Till There Was You’. John really had a go at Paul for singing this—but didn’t try to stop him doing it, recognizing there was scope for all kinds of music in this group, to please all kinds of audiences.”

Mark Lewisohn, Tune In: The Beatles: All These Years (unFUCKING believable that Lewisohn uses this as an example of John's leadership and not Paul's)

As they near the club, they start to discern the sounds of a band rehearsing a poppy, recently released Elvis number called “It’s Now Or Never”, refitted that summer from the melody of “O Sole Mio”. As the pair near the door of the bar, Lennon realises it is his band, and that the voice singing is that of his fellow Beatle, Paul McCartney. Lennon, to put it mildly, is unimpressed by this proposed extension of the group’s repertoire. “He said, ‘What the fucking hell is he doing now?’” remembers Griff, today. “Lennon was a rocker. He stormed in the club and said, ‘What are you doing?’ Paul said: ‘This is a popular song—they’ll love this.’ And of course the audiences did.”

Brian Griffiths, interview w/ John Robinson for Uncut: ‘A roaring rock’n’roll band in leathers and cowboy boots… but they changed.’ (March, 2012)

The observations Sam Leach had of the teenaged boys seems to put Paul in the leadership position, not John: “Even when we went to shows, Paul had the ideas, made the decisions — about what clubs to play in, for example, new things to try on stage. He was the idea man, John was a bit lazy when it came to doing stuff.”

Larry Kane. “When They Were Boys.

The other Quarry Men did not take quite so strongly to Paul. 'I always thought he was a bit big- headed,' Nigel Walley says. 'As soon as we let him into the group, he started complaining about the money I was getting them, and saying I should take less as I didn't do any playing. He was always smiling at you, but he could be catty as well. He used to pick on our drummer, Colin - not to his face; making catty remarks about him behind his back. Paul wanted something from the drums that Colin didn't have it in him to play.' "Paul was always telling me what to do," Colin Hanton says. "Can't you play it this way?" he'd say, and even try to show me on my own drums. He'd make some remark to me. I'd sulk. John would say "Ah, let him alone, he's all right." But I knew they only wanted me because I'd got a set of drums.' Even Pete Shotton - still a close friend and ally - noticed a change in John after Paul's arrival. "There was one time when they played a really dirty trick on me. I knew John would never have been capable of it on his own. It was so bad that he came to me later and apologised. I'd never known him to do that before for anyone.' It was shortly after Paul joined the Quarry Men that they bought proper stage outfits of black trousers, black bootlace ties and white cowboy shirts with fringes along the sleeves. John and Paul, in addition, wore white jackets; the other three played in their shirtsleeves. Eric Griffiths, though also a guitarist, did not have the jacket-wearing privilege. A cheerful boy, he did not recognise this for the augury it was.

Shout!: The True Story of the Beatles (Philip Norman)

Gerry Marsden also has his own interesting theory about Paul’s left-handed guitar playing: “He and John were able to get their faces close up together at the microphone for the vocals, unlike most players. So when they were singing, it was like a love affair with each other, and the mike between them. In every photograph they are tight together and the effect is very powerful. In those days, we didn’t have a microphone each: we shared one, so for Macca to plan this effect for the Beatles, as I’m certain he did, was brilliant.”

“What The Stars Said About Them.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 205 (May 1993).

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

“[John] didn’t like it one bit, paying to play did not sit right with John Lennon… but we did eventually pay to go in — John included, and it was Paul McCartney who convinced John we should do so… Paul’s reasoning was we were more than good enough to win the prize money. He argued that as we would soon be walking off with the cash prize anyway, so we could afford to pay to go inside… So we all did cough up and in we trooped, set up, performed and, of course, proceeded not to win. It was undoubtedly a reality check for our new super-confidant guitarist. We all came away out of pocket, but steeped in admiration for Paul’s enthusiasm and blind faith in the Quarry Men’s ability. He had impressed us all.”

Colin Hanton and Colin Hall, Pre-Fab, The Book Guild, 2018.

‘When Paul joined the band, things changed… but it wasn’t an overnight change,’ Colin Hanton remembers. ‘Paul was shrewd. He realised from the start that John liked to think of himself as the dominant force, but he needed Paul to teach him proper guitar chords, which was the way in to playing more rock ‘n’ roll material. He recognised John was the power in the group and that the best way to take him on was to do it subtly.’ Paul’s most immediate effect on the Quarrymen was in their presentation. ‘You could see he had this show business side to him,’ Colin Hanton says, ‘while John just lived for the music.’ The group had always worn what they liked onstage, but now John accepted Paul’s suggestion of a uniform: black trousers, white Western-style shirts and black bootlace ties. On 23 November, they had a return booking at the New Clubmoor Hall, where Paul had previously mucked up ‘Guitar Boogie’. He was determined to cut a better figure this time. ‘He had this sort of oatmeal jacket–he’d worn it to the Woolton fete–and he let it be known to John that when we did the gig, he was going to wear the jacket,’ Hanton remembers. ‘So the gig got nearer and then one day John turned up and he had got a cream jacket that was lighter than Paul’s. It was John’s way of saying “Hey, I’m cooler than you.”’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

“During playbacks, John and Paul would often huddle together and discuss whether a take was good enough; they’d talk about what they were hearing and what they wanted to fix or do differently,” “John wasn’t casual about making records, not in the early years, anyway. Still, it was Paul who was always striving to get things the best that they could possibly be.” While Lennon might not have shared McCartney’s perfectionism, he respected and went along with it. He may not have had the same attitude toward Martin, though. “Certainly George Martin couldn’t get away with that,” “If he dared try, they would bite his head off. There was never any doubt in my mind that Paul and John viewed George Martin as a helpmate, not as their equal.”

Geoff Emerick in his book Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles.

“John is an original. New ideas just come to him. Paul has great originality but he’s also an arranger. He can get things done, which John can’t, or can’t be bothered trying. They do need, and they don’t need, each other. Either is true. Paul is as talented a composer as John. They could easily have done well on their own.”

Astrid Kirchherr in 1967, from The Beatles, by Hunter Davies.

In the early days my role was to tidy things up, musically - to put songs into some sort of perspective. (I would also give a commercial estimate of their worth) I might take a phrase out of the middle of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’, for example, pointing out that the phrase should have started the song, or, as on ‘Please Please Me’, say ‘Speed it up, maybe; that’s all it needs, really… ’ I think John learned from this kind of input. He learned a whole lot more from Paul, though: musical structure; organization in his song writing; how to make a song telling. He also learned the value of a good ‘hook’ —the catchy bit, for example the guitar riff that starts ‘Day Tripper’, the harmonica from ‘Love Me Do’.

George Martin

John used to find it hard to express himself, I was in a position where I really had to read his mind, and he didn’t have a lot of patience. He would accept something that was sort of 95% good, whereas Paul would want it 100% good. So Paul to me has always been the musician and the one that was a musicians sort of musician. I mean Paul was a good drummer, a good guitarist, a good keyboard player and he sort of held the band and brought them to that perfection part of things, John would let things easily go. And of course John did not like the sound of his voice either. No matter how much you told him how great his voice sounded, he always wanted tape echo on it or something done to it.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Paul was the one who sort of saved the situation always, the one who always went that little bit extra to perfect things you know. Especially because on Paul’s songs, we’d spend a considerable amount of time doing Paul’s songs because he knew exactly really what he wanted whereas John didn’t. The time we spent on some of John’s songs was a bit less than Paul’s songs, but if Paul, I think, thought that a John song was going slightly a bit, you know, lopsided, he’d interject and sort of make sure it really was polished.

Geoff Emerick interview w/ Alan Light for Blender.com (2009)

Q: If you had a favourite out of all The Beatles, who did you find yourself drawn to? Geoff: Oh, Paul, obviously! I mean, Paul was the musician’s musician. And I think Paul had an understanding of what I was doing as well; because he knew I was into instruments and so forth, you know, listening to musical instruments and crafting them, let’s put it that way. […] He was the one who always wanted a 110%.

Geoff Emerick, interviewed for ABC’s 7.30 program, for the 50th anniversary of Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. (25 May 2017)

"I don’t want to take anything away from anyone, but production of the Beatles was very simple, because it was ready-made. Paul was a very great influence in terms of the production, especially in terms of George Harrison’s guitar solos and Ringo’s drumming. The truth of the matter is that, to the best of my memory, Paul had a great hand in practically all of the songs that we did, and Ringo would generally ask him what he should do. After all, Paul was no mean drummer himself, and he did play drums on a couple of things. It was almost like we had one producer in the control room and another producer down in the studio. There is no doubt at all that Paul was the main musical force. He was also that in terms of production as well. A lot of the time George Martin didn’t really have to do the things he did because Paul McCartney was around and could have done them equally well… most of the ideas came from Paul".

Norman Smith (The Beatles recording engineer from Please Please Me through Rubber Soul), McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“If you take ‘Across The Universe’, for example: that’s like a folk song without his production on it, [which is] kind of slightly heavy handed. I think it would have been very different if my Dad had done it. Not necessarily better; just very different. I think Paul’s main issue with what happened is that he normally had a lot of input into the arrangements, and he didn’t with Spector – they arranged it without him. I was listening to [off-cuts from 1966’s] ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and even at that early stage you can hear my Dad saying, ‘Do you want that vibrato or not vibrato, Paul?’”

Producer Giles Martin

JOHN: [singing operatically] Well, let me tell you… [Small laughs] Everybody has all the ambitions. Everybody’s full of ambition, and uh, it’s like – uh, once I gave George the advice on songwriting, [which is] that when you start one, finish it. And I think I got the advice from Paul, or working with Paul. But it’s like anything. If you have an idea, the only – the best way is to try and do it right away, otherwise you won’t do it, and that’s called ambition, you know.

October 22nd, 1969 (Apple Corps, London): Detroit DJ John Small

Paul: OK, and that’s great, you know. And then – it’s just being able to say that, on the occasion, just being – say, “Look, I’m not going to say anything about the song, because it’ll be difficult … to sing it to you.” John: Yeah, I know, but you wouldn’t say – listen to me – you probably arranged it you know? Paul: I know, I know. John: Well, I’m saying that “Dear Prudence” is arranged. Can’t you hear [John vocalizes part of the song]. That is the arrangement, you know? But I’m too frightened to say “This is it.” I just sit there and say, “Look, if you don’t come along and play your bit, I won’t do the song,” you know? I can’t do any better than that. Don’t ask me for what movie* you’re gonna play on it. Because apart from not knowing, I can’t tell you better than you have, what grooves you can play on it. You know, I just can’t work. I can’t do it like that. I never could, you know. But when you think of the other half of it, just think, how much more have I done towards helping you write? I’ve never told you what to sing or what to play. You know, I’ve always done the numbers like that. Now, the only regret, just the past numbers, is when because I’ve been so frightened, that I’ve allowed you to take it somewhere where I didn’t want

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

PAUL: We – we haven’t played together, you see! That’s the fucking thing. But when we do come together to play together, we all just sort of talk about the fleeting past! We’re like old-age pensioners! [British geriatric voice] “Remember the days when we used to rock?” You know, but we’re here now! We can do it, you know. But I mean, I’m – all I hoping for is enthusiasm from you— PAUL: You see the thing is also, I, I get to a bit where I just sort of push all my ideas, you know, and I know that my ideas aren’t the best, you know. They are [mechanical voice] “good, good, good” but they’re not the best, you know. We can improve on it. Because we write songs good, and we improve on it. [to Ringo] And you can improve on your drumming like it is, if you get into it. If you don’t, you know, then okay, I have better ideas, but if you get into it, you’re better! You know. It’s like that.

Twickenham, January 6th

"I always had the impression that Brian used to worry about Paul, that he was a bit frightened of him perhaps because he was so strong-willed in his opinions about the exact details of how the Beatles’ career should progress. Even though they could also be as thick as thieves about such matters, Brian was always circumspect when talking to Paul about things of any great importance. John and Brian always seemed to get on all right. But Paul would argue with Brian, and as far as I could see, Brian always gave in."

Brian Sommerville, McCartney by Chris Salewicz

“Sgt Pepper had not yet been released, but already Paul was explaining to Brian at length his plan for the Magical Mystery Tour movie. Every few seconds Brian would make a note on a scrap of paper. Paul drew the whole plan out as a diagram, a cosmic plan with time and action and motion. Brian could translate this, as he could all Beatles commands, into a specific timetable of booked studios, rehearsal halls, rented equipment, tea for forty-five people and everything else they needed, without the Beatles even knowing what degree of organisation was required to satisfy their often obscure and demanding requests. Brian was on Paul’s wavelength and treated him as the most organised Beatle, who could in turn translate management needs back to the other three. It was the last time I saw Brian.”

Barry Miles, In the Sixties

To Lennon, [Paul] was "cute, and didn’t he know it," a born performer who was also a "thruster" and an "operator" behind the scenes.

Christopher Sandford, Paul McCartney, 2005

Because Paul was the natural PR man within the group, it was Paul with whom I worked most. In a sense, I used him to manipulate the others, because that’s what he was doing all the time anyway. I suspect that Paul got his way more than John did within the group, but in a far more subtle manner. He was a smooth operator, as he is to this day. Metaphorically, he still takes that last look in the mirror. His critics now think of him as calculating and selfish, but you could level the charge of selfishness at any great performer. Any artist who is not self-centred will not sustain himself—and self-centred is what Paul is. I soon found out that his management of himself is total. That’s why he always found it so difficult in his solo years to get management that would be satisfactory to him. Everybody knows that all Paul needs is to surround himself with people who will carry out his ideas and do what he says. He considers himself, as he did then, to be self-sufficient. That’s different from John. It is why the partnership worked so well in the early days.

Tony Barrow, Daily Mail. (February 16th, 1998)

And only until John became what he is now – which is after John’s death that people started to revere John – it became an issue for Paul. Because you have to understand that table was turned many times. One, when John made the Jesus Christ remark, and Paul became virtually a leader. And John turned the table on Paul by becoming a partner with me, probably. But then the thing is, the table was turned again by Paul becoming extremely successful with Wings. So he was doing alright, while John did Some Time in New York City with me, and then followed that with Mind Games or something, you know.

1990: Yoko

“I hear tell, I said, "that you can all be downright rude - and have been.” “Of course we’ve been rude - but only rude back,” he [John] explained. “Have you any clue about the things people say and do to us? "We’re not cruel. We’ve seen enough tragedy on Merseyside. But when a mother shrieks, ‘just touch him and maybe he will walk again,’ we want to run, cry or just empty our pockets. It’s a great emotional drag, and this is where Paul helps out. He’s the diplomat with the soft soap. He can turn on that smile like little May sunshine and we’re out of trouble. "We’ve a very tight school, the Beatles. We’re like a machine that goes boom, boomchick, chickboom, each of us with our own little job to do. We’re just like dogs who can hear high-pitched sounds that humans can’t.

The Daily Mirror: The one that bites – Donald Zec dissects Mr J. Lennon. (March 1965)

JOHN: Well, that’s the game they play. Neil Aspinall plays that game too. At one point, in one of the Northern Songs proceedings, I sent a telegram to Neil, because I’d heard he’d been doing things behind me back, and I said: “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” Because I was the one that protected him many times from Paul. Paul had no love for Neil, and vice versa. And all of a sudden he’s a Paul man. Because they clung to Paul—Derek included—because they all thought Paul was the one who was going to hold it all together. So they had a choice of which side to come down on, and they chose Paul, and the past, and at that moment I cut ‘em off.

John Lennon, interview w/ Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld. (September, 1971)

It seemed that John had cut me off not just from him but from the whole Beatles family. The only person who came to see me was Paul. He arrived one sunny afternoon, bearing a red rose, and said, 'I’m so sorry, Cyn, I don’t know what’s come over him. This isn’t right.’ On the way down to see us he had written a song for Julian. It began as ‘Hey Jules’ and later became 'Hey Jude’, which sounded better. Ironically John thought it was about him when he first heard it. It went on to become one of the Beatles’ most successful singles ever, spending nine weeks at number one in the US and two weeks in the UK. Paul stayed for a while. He told me that John was bringing Yoko to recording sessions, which he, George and Ringo hated. […] He joked about us getting married - 'How about it, Cyn?’ - and I was grateful to him for cheering me up and caring enough to come. He was the only member of the Beatles family who’d had the courage to defy John – who had apparently made it quite clear that he expected everyone to follow his lead in cutting me off. But Paul was his own man and not afraid of John. In fact, musically and personally, the two were beginning to go in separate directions so perhaps Paul’s visit to me was also a statement to John.”

Cynthia Lennon, John

“They were the first group I had heard who sounded just like they did on record. You could tell John was the leader, he had a look somehow, a bit of a hard case, but I actually think it was Paul who was in charge.”

Andre Wheeldon, musician

Q: What were the Beatles like to deal with…It was said that John wasn’t the easiest to deal with, Paul was a delight to work with.

A: If we’re talking…professionally, those were the days I was a PR man; and therefore to a man who was doing publicity for the Beatles, Paul had to be the greatest joy of the four because he was the one who organized everyone else. He was the one who posed for the photographers, he was he one who said c’mon chaps, let’s do the interview, let’s do the photograph or whatever. John, in that respect, was more difficult, but John….is the most misunderstood man, actually, because beneath all that bravado and rudeness–and sheer rudeness a lot of the time– there was a genius, and there was also a man who was afraid. I mean all that noise he made was in fact a coverup for being rather a frightened man. Q: He was a shy man… A: Yes, yes indeed. And that is how an awful lot of shy people cover it up by making a lot of noise.”

Tony Barrow, TVAM interview

Paul came across in 1963 as a fun-loving, footloose bachelor who turned on his charm to devastating effect when he wanted to manipulate rivals, colleagues or women he fancied. (...) He had enormous powers of persuasion within The Beatles. He would get his own way by subtlety and suaveness where John resorted to shouting and bullying. John may have been the loudest Beatle but Paul was the shrewdest. I watched him twist the others round to his point of view in all sorts of contentious situations, some trivial, some more significant, some administrative, some creative.

George told me that when he joined Paul and John in the line-up of The Quarry Men in 1958, Paul was already acting as though he was the decision-maker in the group. According to George: "I knew perfectly well that this was John's band and John was my hero, my idol, but from the way Paul talked he gave every indication that he was the real leader, the one who dictated what The Quarry Men would do and where they should be going as a group." This made sense to me because, from what I saw for myself in 1963 and later, Paul's opinions and ideas tended to prevail with The Beatles, particularly on matters of musical policy such as whether a new number was worth recording or whether the running order for the group's stage show needed altering slightly. I didn't see any of the others resist him. They seemed to welcome Paul getting his way by winning arguments with John. When Paul wanted something badly enough from Brian Epstein he would speak softly, wooing the man rather than intimidating him. Epstein's defences would melt away as Paul looked him straight in the eye. In terms of song lyrics, Paul's idea of romantic was 'Michelle', John's was 'Norwegian Wood'.

John, Paul, George, Ringo & Me: The Real Beatles Story, Tony Barrow (2005)

“PAUL: John used to say, ‘I’m the leader of this group!’ and we used to say, 'It’s only because you fucking shout louder than anyone else!’ It wasn’t as if we didn’t know how to do that, it was just nobody wanted to shout and be so uptight about it. Nobody cared as much as he did about being the leader. Actually I have always quite enjoyed being second. I realised why it was when I was out riding: whoever is first opens all the gates. If you’re second you just get to walk through. They’ve knocked down all the walls, they’ve taken all the stinging nettles, they take all the shit and whoever’s second, which is damn near to first, waltzes through and has an easy life. You’re still up with number one. Number one still needs you as his companion, so I think my relationship to John is something to do with this attitude.

paul mccartney: many years from now, barry miles

“When I came out of the Beatles, I got slated for being a bit too heavy with the other guys in the band,” he said. “It was a bit as if I was taking over as the manager. I thought with the new band, I’ll give them total freedom, so no one can accuse me of that again . . . and you can’t do that either. You started to have people saying, ‘Hey man, c’mon, produce us.’ No one would take up the baton, the role. So I came back to that. “The whole of ‘Wings Mark I’ was to see if that could be done. But there was too much indecision, and I wasn’t willing enough to take the thing by the scruff of the neck and say, ‘Look, I think we’ve gotta organize the solos you’re gonna play.’ It was a bit like we’re gonna be the Grateful Dead and we’re just gonna play what comes up. But to do that you’ve gotta know each other for a long time.”

The McCartney Legacy, Volume 1: 1969 – 1973 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair (2022)

“Coming out of The Beatles, I’d kind of got burned by being told I was too overbearing. So I really backed off too far in the early days of Wings. Having to be diplomatic and say ‘Um, perhaps we should do this’ doesn’t work either. You have chaos and confusion. Eventually somebody says: 'Why don’t you tell us what you want?’ and I’d think, 'I just got a bollocking for doing that!’ There was a bit of that in early Wings which caused difficulties.”

Paul McCartney, The Word, October 2005

But it was always hard for you to lock a line-up with Wings. Was it a benign dictatorship? That’s what they thought it was. The thing is, if you come out of The Beatles and you go in another group, you’re not just anyone. You’re the guy out of The Beatles. So, y’know, if anyone’s gonna make a decision, it should probably be him. But I mean, having said that, it was a team thing. Y’know, if anyone didn’t like stuff, we didn’t do it. You could never force musicians to do stuff. But you’d suggest strongly.

The Q Interview, 2007

“That’s difficult. I really don’t know,” he says. “What I first thought of was: listen to people’s opinions more, particularly within the group. But I did listen to people’s opinions and what would happen was I would feel like I had to give my opinion and not get too nervous, because you’ve got to be strong in those situations. There were times when John would bring a song in and I could have just gone, ‘That’s great John, let’s do it like that.’ But the producer in me would think, ‘No, that’s not going to work, why don’t we try it like that.’ So something like ‘Come Together’ would never have been as cool if I’d just been listening to the way John brought it in. And there were a few little instances like that where we would insist on it being one way. So I can’t actually think what I’d say to him. I’d say: You’re a good kid, I love you.”

NME Big Read – Paul McCartney

I had to fight at EMI even for things like the thickness of the cardboard. EMI were always trying to give me less and less thick cardboard. I said, 'Look, when I was a kid, I loved my records, the good ones, and I wanted to protect them and thick cardboard would keep my records. That's all I want to do is give the kids who buy our stuff something to protect our records.' 'Well now, Paul, we can't do it, the volume you boys sell at. If we can save point oh oh pence ... And you can't tell the difference.' 'I bloody can! That's a thin piece of cardboard!' But I got my thick cardboard. I was always arguing for things like that. It somehow fell to me. Later people put me down for that, 'Oh, he was always the pushy one, the PR one.' The truth was, no other fucker would do it! And it had to get done, and I was living in London and I could hop in a taxi and go down Manchester Square and say, 'I'll be down in ten minutes to talk to you about the cardboard.'

Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I thought your friend Hercules was a very charming guest host. I don't know if it's a locality thing or if it's a friends rubbing off on each other thing or what but Phoebe was the only person I knew of who consistently said "not for nothing but..." until Hercules made his debut, and it was endearing to hear. I would love him to come back next time you guys need a Beatles novice. No offense to the women you guys had on the Dylan McCartney episode, but they stressed me out with their sub-par knowledge lol. I'd much rather listen to Hercules next time you need a bit like that. He's intelligent and opinionated yet openly uneducated about the Beatles, and that makes him a fun counterpart to you two -- intelligent and opinionated and encyclopedically educated and the Beatles.

Anyway I am brimming with joy in anticipation of your upcoming happy series about John and Paul! Cannot wait!

Love this, thank you so much, Anon!!!

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Neurodiversity and The Beatles. Discuss.

Hi Anon!

A friend and I recorded an episode on this very topic awhile ago but due to my neurodivergence I'm having a hard time getting it done. 😅

I have every intention to eventually finish and publish it, however.

-Thalia

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Hi there, hugee long time fan of the podcast here! I was wondering if you’d ever interview Ian Leslie regarding his new book? I do believe that most of his “fresh” takes and theories have for the most part been discussed at large on this website and on your show for years now, but I would love to hear y’all discuss the new direction Beatles discourse seems to be taking in the mainstream… Keep up the amazing work! 💪

Thank you, Anon! :) We greatly appreciate those kind words. We have no plans to interview Leslie. We answered a similar ask HERE. Thanks for listening and Stay tuned! xoxox AKOM

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Hey lovely AKOM folks! Belated Happy Easter — and thank you for all the recent content! 🙌

Forgive me if this is off-topic, but I wanted to get something off my chest...

Re: why some of us aren’t exactly enamoured with Ian Leslie — I find the guy problematic. Not so much because of his views on John and Paul (though I do think it’s fair to ask questions about an established journalist — a straight, white, cishet man – with a publishing contract, drawing so heavily on the unpaid work of others).

But what properly bothers me if I’m honest is his politics.

For instance, I still remember his past, casually mocking reference to Jeremy Corbyn and Imagine with the line: “Corbynism, one interminable John Lennon song.”  

Or the way he criticised mild-mannered sports pundit Gary Lineker (no radical he) for speaking out against the previous government’s “immeasurably cruel” asylum policies on social media.

Leslie’s response? “I don’t understand why Lineker can’t just accept the restriction. Why is it of vital importance that the world hear his political views?” Which kind of misses the point, imho.

As a Brit, I guess I’m especially sensitive to this kind of aggro-centrist energy. These voices dominate our politics right now, and they often seem to take real pleasure in punching down — on the left, on young people, on trans rights, on pro-Palestine activists, and so on.

So when I see Leslie’s stances, it honestly makes me question his ability to empathise with John Lennon — or even with the Paul McCartney who wrote Give Ireland Back to the Irish. (“Sir Paul” is another matter.)

And then it’s jarring because Leslie’s everywhere at the moment! Even in the sacred spaces. Even in the Beatles podcasts I turn to as a bit of refuge from the world. ☹️

And I am trying to be thoughtful about this (honest!). I get that one of the beautiful (and yes, sometimes frustrating) things about Beatles fandom is how broad that church is. There’s space for the outsiders and the insiders, the psychedelic dreamers, the rock purists, the avant-garde heads — and for us peace-and-love crew too.

I’ve listened to your previous interview with Leslie, and I’ll admit — he makes some good points. I’ll probably buy his book too. Who am I kidding. Sigh. Of course I will.

And I do know The Beatles were complicated — deeply problematic in their own ways. But still, it’s hard when people claim to love them, yet seem unmoved by the deep empathy that runs through so much of their work. The “peace and love” stuff really matters to some of us. A lot. ❤️✌️

That’s one reason why I value AKOM so much. I feel my kind of Beatles spirit here — that messy, meaningful mix of art, politics, and empathy.

Anyway. Rant over.

Thanks for reading. And thanks for never shying away from difficult topics. I really and truly admire you for it. And I’m grateful.

Hello Listener,

Thank you so much for this lovely message! Your words of appreciation and encouragement mean so much to us!!!

First off, just to clarify: Ian Leslie has never been a guest on AKOM.  [anon, I saw your second ask correcting yourself on this note! :) just wanted to clarify for readers]

Secondly, we are also deeply troubled by his anti-trans rhetoric. Obviously everyone has the right to their own opinion and the right to speak their mind on topics of the day. But we are a podcast comprised of queer women, all ardent supporters/defenders of our trans friends and family. We find anti-trans rhetoric to be not just actively, demonstrably harmful to real human beings, but also just incredibly stupid on its face.

Since we’re not interested in having a 'trans debate' on AKOM, and would be incapable of pretending we are unaware of Mr Leslie’s views, we therefore have no intention of inviting him on AKOM.

That said, we have bought his book and plan to (eventually) read it. We absolutely respect the decision of fans to buy or boycott it as they see fit, and don’t wish to convince anyone either way.

All of our interactions with Mr. Leslie have been friendly and mutually respectful, and as I (Phoebe) said in an earlier episode of AKOM, I personally have enjoyed his previous writing on John and Paul. I’m pleased that the book is doing well because it is spreading the story of John and Paul to a larger audience (although of course we don't agree with all his opinions on the subject). Although we certainly don’t wish him any ill will, we DO wish that he would reconsider his anti-trans views and reconsider the effects of his (many, many) words on the subject.

All of this to say: we don’t think AKOM is the best platform for him to promote his book. Fortunately he can be heard on numerous other podcasts!

We will continue doing what we do here at AKOM (deep research and thorough discussion in attempt to uncover new angles) for as long as we can find the time and energy.

Thanks so much for your support!! P.S. we've received multiple similar asks about Leslie's new book and if we intend to have him on the show. Hopefully this response can serve as a general response to those asks as well.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

SUMMARY: Hercules Jones joins Phoebe to discuss the new big-screen documentary, One to One: John & Yoko. Listen HERE

[anotherkindofmindpod]

New AKOM coming tomorrow! 😱

[anotherkindofmindpod]

i never know how to phrase it but something about the way beatles biographers and people in general view paul's reflexive placating persona and determination to smooth things over as manipulative or duplicitous and john's reflexive barbed persona and habit of lashing out as brave and subversive despite both being equally defensive mechanisms to shield themselves from the world that resulted in them saying things that weren't true says more about how we culturally view kindness or friendliness as inherently untrustworthy or flimsy and anger and carelessness as more believable as someone's true nature than it says about either of them in actuality

[anotherkindofmindpod]

Okay it's the middle of the night and I'm fully losing it (again) over the original 1977 real love demo it is so so heartbreaking emotionally like I can't even explain my thoughts right now but you guys get it right like I'm not alone it this right IT'S SO HEARTBREAKING! JUST CALL HIM ON THE PHONE! GOD!

And and and when, that one line when he says it's real love instead of 'real life' for some reason that one really gets me, tears my fucking heart up

And the way he laughs, like all small and embarrassed after saying the bit about the baby on the way and the farm. OH GOD SICK TO MY STOMACH HE WAS SO HEARTBROKEN AND ASHAMED OF IT STILL AND HE SHOULDNT HAVE HAD TO BE FUCK FUCKKKK

And the way he keeps saying 'let it go' and 'just got to let it go' and 'why don't you let it go' SOUL DESTROYING

And even the main refrain itself, the 'it's real life. it's real' I feel like there's so much to say about that, like!! I can't quite decide if it's, like, trying to remind himself that this here where he is now is real life, he's sad and heartbroken and just has to let it go and THAT'S what's real life, or if it's the fact that he loves him that's real life, and the line is more of a plea almost to everybody/everything making him feel like it isn't real because it's wrong to be gay or whatever (considering this was the 70s) and he's saying I love him and it's real life, it's real. That's makes the 'it's real love' bit hit even harder I think FUCK

Not to even mention the I used to hold you in my arms line like whatttt

Gosh I didn't mean to write this much I'm just losing it and I couldn't stop

DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT

PLEASE

[anotherkindofmindpod]

EIGHT HANDS CLAPPING! Authors Dr. Allison Bumstead and Dr. Christine Feldman-Barrett join Daphne and Phoebe to discuss the Big-Screen viewing of Paul McCartney and Wings in "One Hand Clapping." (Originally recorded October 9, 2024; first aired April 17, 2025) Listen HERE

[anotherkindofmindpod]

[anotherkindofmindpod]

John Lennon on Love, Life and Music

 "I would like," said John Lennon drawing deeply on his cigarette, "The Beatles to make a record together again." 

    The lean, worried genius whose ideas inspired a generation looked intense behind his strong spectacles as he lolled in a plush leather armchair in his New York office. In the course of an extraordinary exclusive interview, he talked for the first time about a Beatles reunion, his broken marriage, and his homesickness. 

    It's now almost exactly five years since the Beatles split, and Lennon, at 34, has decided the time is right to break his long silence.

     "I am still asked almost every day about the Beatles getting together again by waitresses and almost everyone else I meet." He says, "If we feel like it, we might make a record together sometime soon. I mean, I am a Beatles fan. I realize now that I do like the Beatles. When I hear them on the radio, I think to myself that some of those songs are really, really good. I personally would like the Beatles to make a record together again, but I don't really know how the other three feel about the idea. The trouble is that George and Paul still have so many hassles getting into the States that the four of us have never even sat down in one room together to talk, let alone record. It is feasible, though, that we could all find ourselves in the same recording studio, and that would be fun. "

    How does he regard the work that the four of them have produced by themselves since the Beatles? "Well, when I hear the records played on the radio, I still tend to think of them as individual Beatles songs. They still have that Beatly sound to them. I mean, if you took the best tracks from each of our own albums and put them together, you would have a great Beatles album. There just happened to be four albums instead of one. "

    Now, on Lennon's brilliant new album, Walls and Bridges, Elton, John joins him to sing harmonies and says, John, "When Elton sang along with me, it was like having George or Paul there again. It was the same good feeling."

John Lennon on Love, Life and Music By John Blake, Evening News (London) November 1, 1974

[anotherkindofmindpod]

too many people IS so much meaner than how do you sleep in hindsight bc hdys is just a group project of “let’s write the most clever rhyming couplets we can about how paul sucks” but too many people is paul smiling as he leans in to whisper into john’s ear that “you may think you’re hot shit now but i’m going to come out of this so much happier and more successful than you will ever be and you will wake up to realize you ruined your own life.” and wouldn’t you know that’s exactly what happened. can’t you just imagine that song haunting john as he sat in the dakota during the late 70s, cursing his writer’s block and deciding to throw paul with his guitar out of the house rather than concede that he had been right?

[anotherkindofmindpod]

I was writing about how Paul started writing with John, and how that story has been told. Once you’ve noticed that Paul wrote songs first, you can’t unsee it. And you can’t help spotting which writers just haven’t noticed, and who is actively going LOOK OVER THERE A SQUIRREL when they have to mention Paul bringing songwriting into the group. (I’m curious to see how the new Ian Leslie book handles this; the first review I’ve seen says the partnership “began in earnest in 1962”, which suggests Leslie has at least looked beyond the usual “they met at Woolton Fete and almost immediately started writing together” take.) Anyway, here’s a LOOK OVER THERE A SQUIRREL compilation, because some of these are outrageous

During the 1960s, the official band narrative presents JohnandPaul as a unit, keeping their contributions carefully balanced. Here’s Hunter Davies, the jumping-off point for most later accounts:

[Paul] played a couple of tunes to John he had written himself. Since he’d started playing the guitar, he had tried to make up a few of his own little tunes. The first tune he played to John that evening was called ‘I Lost My Little Girl’.

Not to be outdone, John immediately started making up his own tunes. He had been elaborating and adapting other people's words and tunes to his own devices for some time, but he hadn't written down proper tunes till Paul appeared with his. Not that Paul's tunes meant much, nor John's. They were very simple and derivative. It was only them coming together, each egging the other on, which suddenly inspired them to write songs for themselves to play.

After the breakup, rock journalism tended to take John’s side, and downplay Paul. Here’s Philip Norman in Shout! (1981), doing a virtuoso hatchet job:

Paul McCartney had always used his guitar to help him make up tunes. His main objective in the Quarry Men, however, was to oust Eric Griffiths from the role of lead guitarist. One night at the Broadway Conservative Club, he prevailed on the others to let him take the solo in a number. He fluffed it and, later, in an attempt to redeem himself, played over to John a song he had written, called I Lost My Little Girl. John, though he had always tinkered with lyrics, had never thought of writing entire songs before. Egged on by Paul - and by Buddy Holly - he felt there could be no harm in trying. Soon he and Paul were each writing songs furiously, as if it were a race.

Did you think, dear reader, that writing your own songs might be a significant artistic breakthrough? No, no, it’s just a backup weapon in Paul’s Machiavellian plot against poor Eric. This is his “main objective”, and he’s manipulated the others into letting him grab a solo. Norman has, by the way, already admitted that the Quarrymen all recognised that Paul was a stronger musician than the rest of the group. Is it reasonable for the best guitarist to want to play a solo? Clearly not.

For maximum whiplash, compare Norman telling the same story 27 years later, in John Lennon: The Life (2008).

The idea of writing original songs to perform, rather than merely recycling other people’s, was firmly rooted in Paul’s mind well before he met John. He had begun trying it virtually from the moment he acquired a guitar, combining melodic gifts inherited from his father with a talent for mimicking and pastiching the American-accented hits of the moment. His first completed song, “I Lost My Little Girl,” had been written in 1956, partly as a diversion from the trauma of his mother’s death, partly as an expression of it. Around the time he joined the Quarrymen, he had something like a dozen other compositions under his belt, mostly picked out on the family upright piano, including a first draft of what would eventually become “When I’m Sixty-four” (which he thought “might come in handy for a musical comedy or something”).

For a fifteen-year-old Liverpool schoolboy - indeed for any ordinary mortal - this was breathtaking presumptuousness. In Britain’s first rock’n’roll era, as for a century before it, songwriting was considered an art verging on the magical. It could be practiced only in London (naturally) by a tiny coterie of music-business insiders, middle-aged men with names like Paddy or Bunny, who alone understood the sacred alchemy of rhyming arms with charms and moon with June.

Just imagine if Norman had published that second version in 1981. Shout! was one of the most influential Beatles books, shaping the narrative for decades to come. Even Norman now admits its extreme bias, but you can still see its lingering influence. (Also, what a natural-born hater Norman is. When he puts his Paul-bashing on hold, he makes up some fictional songwriters to despise instead.)

Next up we have Mark Lewisohn, who doesn’t write Paul as the Evil Grand Vizier, but keeps shuffling the pack to put John front and centre whenever a breakthrough happens. His prologue to Tune In is a snapshot of John and Paul writing together at the very beginning of their partnership:

Towards the end of 1957, John wrote Hello Little Girl and Paul came up with I Lost My Little Girl; the similarity in their titles was apparently coincidental but both were steeped in [Buddy Holly and] the Crickets’ sound…Buddy Holly was the springboard to John and Paul’s songwriting. As John later said: “Practically every Buddy Holly song was three chords, so why not write your own.” Stated so matter-of-factly, it could seem that writing songs was an obvious next move, but it wasn’t. Teenagers all over Britain liked Buddy Holly and rock and roll, but of that great number only a fraction picked up a guitar and tried playing it, and fewer still, in fact hardly anyone, used it as the inspiration to write songs themselves. John and Paul didn’t know anyone else who did it, no one from school or college, no relative or friend… and yet somehow, by nothing more than fate or fluke, they’d found each other, discovered they both wrote songs, and decided to try it together.

When Lewisohn disagrees with the accepted narrative, he’s usually very keen to show you all his evidence for why everyone else is wrong. Here he suggests John wrote Hello Little Girl first, without discussion. Then he quotes John on getting the idea to write songs, before discussing what an important innovation that was. Right at the end, he says they both wrote independently - but John is in prime position throughout.

As you read on, he acknowledges Paul’s pre-Quarrymen songs, framing them as juvenilia (“exceptional for a first attempt by a boy on the cusp of 14”). Giving I Lost My Little Girl a later date than everyone else, Lewisohn notes that when Paul performed it on MTV Unplugged, his “vocal includes a Holly hiccup, pinpointing its creation to post-September 1957”. (Because the way Paul sings something in 1991 must be exactly how he sang it from the beginning.) Lewisohn also ignores the many interviews in which John says he started writing after seeing Paul’s example.

Obviously, these distraction tactics sell Paul short. But I think they harm John, too. If you’re interested in him as an artist, don’t you want to know how he developed? What he learned, how he used those influences to shape his own voice? How he and Paul worked, together and apart? How they saw their partnership, how that fed into their competitiveness, ambitions, or insecurities? Mary Sue Blorbo Leader John is no good to me. And, more than 60 years on, memories have faded and sources have died; we’ve lost so many chances to look at how they really worked. John and Paul both deserve better.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

DYLAN McCARTNEY : The Partners That Never Were

SUMMARY Phoebe and Thalia explore the songwriting of Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney, how their styles differ and overlap and why we think they would complement each other beautifully in a potential collaboration. Also included: What Bob and Paul have said about each other over the years, lyric comparison/analysis, John Lennon’s take, a miniature quiz show, and a special surprise Dylan-McCartney mashup!

EPISODE CONTENTS - Intro - Beyond the Surface - Influence on Each Other? - First Impressions - Swipe Right (Geminis, Painters, DJs, Fanboys) - Songwriting is Magic - Poetic Lyrics - Lyric Comparison - John’s Two Cents - Quiz: Dylan or McCartney? - The Mashup