No Paperback Writer: McCartney, Rejected!

I recently came across a humorous guest post by novelist Jon Gibbs on Nathan Bransford’s writing and publishing blog. It’s a well-executed, if somewhat predictable, tongue-in-cheek reject letter sent by a snarky literary agent to Paul McCartney as if The Beatles’ 1966 classic “Paperback Writer” had been an actual query letter.

This certainly appeals to the “publishing geek” in me, and no matter which side of the equation you might be on in the publishing formula, you can sympathize with the perspectives played out here. Or you you might simply enjoy it as a Beatles’ fan. Regardless, it’s worth a read. (Check it out here.)

And, to refresh your memory, here’s the original promo video the lads did for the song:



And, given the details of the referenced blog post, the full lyrics to the song might help, too:


Paperback Writer
(Lennon/McCartney) - but really Paul

Paper back writer (paperback writer)
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

It’s the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn’t understand.
The son (The Sun? Nice double entendre!) is working for the Daily Mail,
It’s a steady job, but he wants to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

Paperback writer (paperback writer)

It’s a thousand pages, give or take a few,
I’ll be writing more in a week or two.
I can make it longer if you like the style,
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

If you really like it you can have the rights,
It could make a million for you overnight.
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

Paperback writer (paperback writer) ...

ADDENDUM

While tracking down the original video above, I also came across another interesting rendition of the song. This one is a rawer version the band prerecorded on a stage set in England in place of an in-person appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show in early 1966. It also includes the B-side to “Paperback Writer,” John Lennon’s “Rain” – further example of the songwriting duo’s potency during this period. (Who else was making singles with, in effect, two strong A-sides?)



I never noticed McCartney’s chipped tooth in this before now. Apparently, others noticed, too, leading to so many comments about it on YouTube that the video’s uploader got annoyed and disabled the comment capability. He does, however, explain that it was the result of a motor scooter accident. Obviously Paul (the cute one) had it fixed soon thereafter.

Beatles vs. Stones

It’s the “Coke or Pepsi?” question of rock: The Beatles or The Rolling Stones?

Most of us have an immediate, visceral response: a gut reaction based on one band striking an inner chord in a way that the other just doesn’t.

For me, it’s The Stones. Always has been, though as I’ve grown older, the question prompts a bit more pause and pondering. But as much as I love The Beatles, the bluesy grit, funky grooves and maximum riffage of Keith & Co. wins out over the pop songcraft, progressive artistry and sonic experimentalism of The Beatles.

Of course, it is a bit of an apples-and-oranges consideration from today’s vantage point (as opposed to weighing the two choices in, say, 1968 or ’69). The Stones have been an active enterprise for nigh on a half-century. The Beatles body of work represents a mere decade. What they did in that brief period of time is unparalleled. On the other hand, The Stones longevity (or at least The Glimmer Twins’) is unmatched in rock music, even if they’ve had an orchestra’s worth of players pass through the ranks.

But, as Mick said during his band’s ill-fated December 1969 visit to a Northern California racetrack,. “Why must we fight?” So, in the spirit of detente between the two camps:

Here’s a fun mashup: “Sympathy for the Devil” meets “With a Little Help From My Friends.”

The 32 Best Opening Tracks of All Time

OK, I admit it. I’m beginning to get tapped out. I know, hard to believe with a music obsessive like me, but it’s the truth. I’ve done as many “Father Knows Best” Box Sets of CD collections for my teenage daughter as I can think of without completely forcing the concept simply for the concept’s sake, rather than the music’s sake. (Best Foreign Language Rock Songs, anyone?)

So this year, rather than the usual collection of 10 personally selected CDs nestled under the umbrella of some arbitrary theme – Best Debut Albums, Best Live Albums, Most Underrated Albums – I’m delivering my now 15-year-old music-loving daughter one CD (OK, it’s a double CD) highlighting the 32 “Best Opening Tracks of All Time.”

What makes a great opening track? Well, obviously, it must grab you right away. There has to be a dramatic sense of lift off. And it sets the tone for the rest of the album. Some first tracks might be great songs – “Like a Rolling Stone,” “Achilles Last Stand” and “Where the Streets Have No Name” come to mind – but that doesn’t quite make them the best opening tracks. Those are a tune of a different color.

Some bands are particularly adept when it comes to opening tracks, consistently delivering in ways that few others can match. In my catalog of favorites, that would be The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. (Bob Dylan doesn’t do too badly either.)

Think about it. Every Led Zeppelin album except Presence began with a monster opening track – featuring some of the heaviest guitar riffs, drum fills and wailing vocals in rock history. (Ironically, Zep’s one opening misfire was “Achilles Last Stand,” quite possibly the band’s best song ever in my book, but not necessarily a great opening track.) Then there’s The Rolling Stones: “Sympathy for the Devil,” “Gimme Shelter,” “Brown Sugar,” “Rocks Off,” “It’s Only Rock and Roll,” “Miss You” and “Start Me Up” … What more proof do you need?

Of course, the whole concept of a great opening track is predicated on the idea of an album as a specifically sequenced series of songs: something that is quickly fading from public perception – except, perhaps, among us older folks – if not artistic consciousness. Nevertheless, once upon a time that meant something; and how albums began and ended was an important consideration (as was even how side two started in the pre-CD vinyl era).

So here is my “Best Opening Tracks of All Time” playlist:

• “Whole Lotta Love” – II, Led Zeppelin – The greatest rock riff of all time – OK, in close competition with “Satisfaction” and “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” – paired with the greatest lead guitar break, drum fill and vocal orgasm ever. Res ipsa loquitur.

• “Gimme Shelter” – Let It Bleed, The Rolling Stones – The definition of “classic.” Totally anchored in the late ’60s, yet somehow still contemporary. Pulsing rhythm, menacingly intercedent lead guitar, wailing blues harp and killer background vocals … All that and one of the best maracas parts this side of Santana!

• “London Calling” – London Calling, The Clash – Talk about kicking off an album with jaunty swagger! One of the great classics from the second generation of English rock musicians. Sounds as good today as it did in 1979.

• “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” – De Stilj, The White Stripes – Raw force blasts out of the speakers like a slowed down Stooges giving way to an edgy, but understated, melody before bursting back into the ripping chords of the chorus. Proof you don’t need more than simple drums, simple guitar, sincere singing, a good arrangement and crisp recording. Great use of dynamics. Sounds loud at any volume.

• “Lively Up Yourself” – Natty Dread, Bob Marley and The Wailers – The song that first bridged the rock-reggae genre and turned all the Brits on to reggae (Jagger/Richards, Clapton, Page, Parker, et al really took this to heart). The Live version is better, but it doesn’t kick off that album.

• “Subterranean Homesick Blues” – Bringing It All Back Home, Bob Dylan – Right from the start, this song announced a “new Dylan.” The young troubadour was turning on, turning it up and channeling the spirit of Kerouac and Ginsburg, rather than Woody Guthrie. This song embraces the 1960s’ counter-culture while conjuring twisted images of the old-timey Midwest. “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”

• “Planet Telex” – The Bends, Radiohead – One of the first great “post-modern” album tracks. Supremely original, yet still referential. The sound of the future arriving. This album, and the next one (OK Computer), would make Radiohead the biggest band in the word for awhile – until they decided, “Enough of that!”

• “Baba O’Riley” – Who’s Next, The Who – The most famous synthesizer riff of all time sets up that classic, crashing entrance of three chords (you know, the ones that tell the truth). So much more than “teenage wasteland” … though that still resonates in many ways, too. A great start to one of the best sounding Who albums (thank you, Glyn Johns).

• “Rocks Off” – Exile on Main Street, The Rolling Stones – This song doesn’t quite fit the criteria for great opening track the way most of the others on this list do. On the surface, it’s a straightforward mid-tempo rocker, but buoyant subtleties in vocals and instrumentation make it more than just another sprightly Stones song. The result is a perfect start to one of the band’s best albums. Great horns by Bobby Keys, and Nicky Hopkins’s piano jousts with Keith’s chords as the song gallops along. Some tasty Mick Taylor guitar licks buried in the mix, too.

• “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” – Crosby, Stills, Nash, Crosby, Stills, Nash – It’s not easy for a predominantly acoustic song to make this list, but this is what had people seriously calling CSN “the American Beatles” for a short while in 1969-1970. Despite the acoustic feel, there is some perfectly understated electric guitar, too. Then, of course, there’s the ever-present, incomparable vocal harmonies. This song is the apex of Stephen Stills’ artistic accomplishments, and a fully developed template for what CSN would be as a band.

• “Break On Through (To the Other Side)” – The Doors, The Doors – Another great riff that kick starts an album and sets the tone for all that follows. Urgent, with a hint of reckless abandon. It’s easy to focus on the guitar riffs and the organ rhythms, but it’s Densmore’s drumming that makes the track what it is. Interestingly, Morrison’s vocals are rather unremarkable on this one.

• “Immigrant Song” – III, Led Zeppelin – Viking plunder meets hippie consciousness. That opening vocal wail, the funky shuffling drums and the leaden bass/guitar riff yield the sound of the “Hammer of the Gods.” Quite a start to the band’s … ahem … “acoustic” album. Ironically, this is the only Zep song with no guitar solo!

• “World Shut Your Mouth” – Saint Julian, Julian Cope – Edgy 1980s’ pop at its best since The Clash’s pop dabblings. Radio friendly, but retaining some spunk. Great production, too. Sonically, kind of an English forerunner to Cracker in some ways, now that I think about it. The peak of Cope’s career, really – representing a small window of lucidity between acid casualty and eco-earth-mother-archdrude nutcase.

• “Smells Like Teen Spirit” – Nevermind, Nirvana – I have to admit, I was never as smitten with Nirvana as many of my peers and those slightly younger seemed to be. Nevertheless, it’s undeniable that the slackers from Seattle did popularize a noteworthy new coalescence of influences in the form of “grunge.” And “Here we are, entertain us,” does pretty much speak to the attitude of a generation. Yet, ultimately, “Well, whatever, nevermind,” really says it all.

• “Come Together” – Abbey Road, The Beatles – Lennon cops some Chuck Berry lyrics and pairs them with some funky organ riffs and alternately shimmering and piercing guitar fills. One of the best return-to-basics tunes of the mature Beatles’ career. Nice double-tracking on the lead vocals, too. The rest of Abbey Road followed the tone established on this one.

• “Fisherman’s Blues” – Fisherman’s Blues, The Waterboys – Another of the rare acoustic numbers to make this list. Carried by exuberant Celtic fiddle and dream-filled vocals, this song is simplicity perfected (musically and lyrically), punctuated by a spirited delivery. Not just the namesake for the album, but a grand announcement that The Waterboys were serious about their stay in Ireland. The beginning of a lush and fruitful idea, indeed.

• “Trenchtown Rock” – Live!, Bob Marley and the Wailers – One the greatest starts to a live album ever. Though rather than kicking out the jams right from the get go, this stays true to reggae form and eases into the spirit of things, gently setting the mood with a understated rhythm and laid-back melody. “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain. So hit me with music. Hit me with music now.” … Words to live by.

• “Don’t Bang the Drum” – This Is the Sea, The Waterboys – The last album airing “the big music” that The Waterboys built their early career on – before heading to the craggy terrain of Western Ireland and embracing the Celtic twilight. Roddy Lorimer’s opening trumpet solo provides a unique anticipatory lull before the band kicks into an epic sounding, mid-tempo rocker about “deliverance, or history, under these skies so blue.” Anto Thistlethwaite’s sax joins the trumpet, distorted guitars, keyboards, drums and Mike Scott’s hoots and Dylanesque chants for the clamorous climax: “Just let it come, don’t bang the drum!”

And kicking off Disc 2:

• “In a Big Country” – The Crossing, Big Country – Unfairly pigeon-holed as a band of plaid-wearing Scotsmen with bagpipe-sounding guitars at the dawn of the MTV-era, Big Country was nothing short of a great band for a few albums. This first song on their debut album set the stage. Yes, there were guitars with bagpipe-like effects, but plenty of others, too. And paired with Mark Brezecki’s huge drum sound and Tony Butler’s funky bass, there was something more sophisticated and emotive in this song than the stereotype suggests. Big Country were masters at interweaving ancestral melodies with modern pop-rock sounds, subtle-yet-spirited instrumentation and Stuart Adamson’s atavistic romanticism.

• “Rough Boys” – Empty Glass, Pete Townshend – To this day, Empty Glass remains, to me, Townshend’s best solo album. In fact, this far surpassed what The Who were doing by this point (1980). I think Pete knew that, too. Sophisticated songwriting and arrangements – just as you’d expect from Townshend: nuanced and ripping at the same time. Sounds like he’s worked up some ire not heard since he’d venomously written: “Who the fuck are you?”

• “I Will Follow” – Boy, U2 ­– Like many lead tracks on great debut albums, this was an announcement of arrival, an auspicious start, yet one that now sounds quaint. As dated as it is, that ringing E string and the tinkling triangle remain uniquely engaging. There is a reason that this induced early ’80s’ pop audiences to frenetic pogoing.

• “Shot of Love” – Shot of Love, Bob Dylan – Apocalyptic and pleading, this was the fading echo of Dylan’s gospel period. But it’s also a great, funky, pseudo-gospelesque rocker that has the old bard spitting lyrics like he did at the height of the ’60s. He’s propelled along by Clydie King’s impassioned vocals and Fred Tackett’s rocking guitar.

• “Young Man Blues” – Live at Leeds, The Who – Not the start of the live concert from which it was taken, but the perfect start for the live E.P. that really helped The Who establish sound footing for their career in the U.S. Great as he was, Mose Allison (the song’s composer) never envisioned this!

• “Search and Destroy” – Raw Power, Iggy and the Stooges – Raw power, indeed! Wholly defined by the line, “I’m a street-walking cheetah with a heart full of nepalm.” It’s the quintessential counterpoint to the peace-and-love side of the equation in 1969. The bridge between Eddie Cochran, The Ramones and The Sex Pistols if there ever was one.

• “Finest Worksong” – Document, R.E.M. ­– A somewhat forgotten dose of R.E.M.’s early forays into harder rock, but this song and the album it leads off remain among my favorites by the boho’s from Athens. I played the grooves off this L.P. back in 1987 (and later the zeroes and ones out of the CD version). “What we want and what we need, has been confused” … and it often still is.

• “Wait for the Black Out” – The Black Album, The Damned – A powerful song, despite the now muffled sounding recording (or maybe it’s my hearing that is now muffled). This was the midpoint between the thrashing guitar and pounding drums of the seminal punk band’s early days and their later ultra pop ventures (before they concluded as a heavy metal band, of course). As such, it’s the perfect balance between musicality, unabated energy and something to say — with the boots on to make sure the point comes through loud and clear! The same goes for this entire album, which (recording issues aside) remains very listenable even today. And it leaves no doubt as to why Jimmy Page sought out Rat Scabies to play drums with him shortly after this was released.

• “Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)” – Cracker Brand, Cracker ­– A catchy, classically rocking track, for sure, but it’s David Lowery’s clever lyrics that make this the keeper it is. No mere sardonic novelty though, the attitude and humor of this song are whipped along perfectly by guitarist Johnny Hickman’s raunchy melodies and clanging chords.

• “Brown Sugar” – Sticky Fingers, The Rolling Stones – What Keef can do with a five-string guitar is more poignant and groovy than most guitarists can do with 12 strings, much less six! This is one of Jagger’s best vocal performances ever (a lot of multi-tracking going on here). And, as is so often the case during this period, Bobby Keys’ sax is fast on the heels of the Human Riff.

• “Debaser” – Doolittle, The Pixies – A perfect example of the Boston band’s twisted take on punky pop rock. Propelled by Kim Deal’s heavy bottom end (bass, that is), Joey Santiago’s fluid lead guitar melodies glide in, out and around Black Francis’ choppy chords and manic vocals.

• “Black Dog” – IV, Led Zeppelin – Those first few seconds of understated guitar scratching are like an engine revving up before the full onslaught of Robert Plant’s a cappella verse vocal and the quintessential hard rock guitar/bass riff. A great performance and production that makes for a powerful start to an incredibly varied album that is also quite possibly the best rock album of all time.

• “Zoo Station” – Achtung Baby, U2 – The stark, steady snare, clanging toms and swirling synthesizer bracing against The Edge’s chiming guitar and Bono’s heavily effected vocals declared that the Irish quartet would be wielding a new sonic palette in the new decade of the 1990s. And indeed they did.

• “Low” – Kerosene Hat, Cracker – Simply a great rock song. One of the true highlights of this band’s long career. Strongly strummed acoustic guitar provides the ground floor, upon which are layered classic rock guitars and cinematic vocals. This is a model of how to do the whole verse/chorus dynamic, not to mention instrumental bridge.

That’s my list … at least for now. There’s another dozen or so songs that nearly made it. What would be on yours?

Still the Hero

John Lennon has been getting a lot of attention this week in acknowledgment that today would’ve been his 70th birthday. I don’t have much to add to the many eloquent tributes and reflections coursing through the media mainstream. It’s hard to disagree with Boston Globe music writer Sarah Rodman’s sentiment that in a kinder world, John Lennon would still be here today. We can only imagine what he would be doing. (That said, I don’t think one person’s mental illness-induced violent act is necessarily attributable to the meanness of the world – even if that is the case ... but I digress.)

Like all of us, Lennon was a flawed character, but what endeared him to so many was that he readily admitted that, balancing humility and pride while debunking his fame and celebrity. He’s remembered for that, and his passion, creativity, honesty and sincerity as an artist – in short, for his humanity.

On more than a handful of occasions he danced a blessed dance with the muse. And there’s no denying that many of The Beatles’ best songs were mostly Lennon compositions. But I never bought into the Paul-dismissive notion that it was Lennon’s band and John wrote all of the insightful, artistic tunes, while McCartney cranked out the pop pablum and music-hall schlock. After The Beatles, both composers had their share of hits and misses, only John’s came over a much shorter period of time, marked by an extended hiatus.

John’s solo work during the dissolution of The Beatles and the ensuing decade was infused with heartfelt, personal messages. There was some great music; though, I have to admit that not all of it resonated with me. Of course, there’s no denying that “Imagine,” “Instant Karma,” “Working Class Hero,” “Whatever Gets You Through the Night,” “Give Peace a Chance,” “Cold Turkey,” “Gimme Some Truth” and “Mind Games” are songs that would be shining lights in anyone’s catalog. Despite these highlights, there’s one thing John’s post-Beatles life made very clear: There are more important things in life than fame, work or even art, and he lived that recognition, day in and day out, for the last half-decade of his life.

Among John Lennon’s better post-Beatles’ recordings, this is my personal favorite and, perhaps, the most characteristically “Lennon-esque” song of his solo output. We could all use a little more immediacy to our karma these days, I think.

Dissecting Rock’s Greatest Songwriting Duo

I just got around to watching the second edition (actually Part 1) of the two documentaries on the Lennon/McCartney songwriting partnership. (I wrote a lengthier post about the first one I saw, Part 2, almost a year ago, which you can read here.)

This installment, Composing the Beatles Songbook: Lennon and McCartney 1957 - 1965, covers the early years of the partnership, examining how the two musicians developed and began to assert their own styles and voices, while also continuing to work collaboratively on many occasions (at least during this period).

Insightful commentary and interviews with friends who were there at the time add considerable nuance to the typically over-simplified summary of the pair’s individual songwriting styles and influences. The film also debunks the myth that the band was initially John’s; a common assumption based on the fact that he was the founder and leader of The Quarrymen, the band which Paul joined before the group evolved into The Silver Beatles and then just The Beatles. It makes a compelling case that Paul quickly assumed co-leadership with John based on the duo’s superior composing skills and stage presence.

The documentary dissects Paul’s emergence as an exceptional pop songsmith (and sheds light on the roots of those sensibilities), while also providing one of the more thorough explorations of Dylan’s pronounced influence on John’s songwriting in 1964 and ’65. The detailed examinations of McCartney’s “Can’t Buy Me Love” and Lennon’s “Hard Day's Night” (Who knew they were both blues songs, in their own, early Brit-pop, kind of way?), as well as John’s confessionals, “Help” and “Norwegian Wood,” are particularly interesting.

While the music involved and the story of the dynamics between the duo is undoubtedly more compelling in the second DVD, spanning 1966 - 1970 (again, you can read more about that here), this view of the early years is surprisingly substantive and entertaining – even without any direct commentary from the composers themselves. The bottom line is that there was a lot there, even in those early days when they were simply Mop Tops (or, at least, so perceived).

If you like The Beatles, or just appreciate the art of songcraft, I highly recommend checking out both of these documentaries.

The Beatles’ first fully acoustic song, “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away,” from 1964’s soundtrack to the second Beatles’ movie Help, is one of several examples of the strong Dylan influence on John Lennon’s songwriting.

A Magical History Tour

I was recently turned on to these delightful, interpretative animations of some Beatles’ songs courtesy of Mike Scott’s Twitter posts (he of Waterboys’ renown). You have to love the psychedelia of the first one. In just a few seconds, the second one says a lot about the band dynamic in the later years. Another one humorously highlights the many guises the band took over their relatively short run. And one featuring the Beatles’ famous rooftop performance of “Get Back” cleverly casts John as “the funny one.” Finally, since I like tennis as well as the Beatles, I got a kick out of this last one, too.

Beyond Beatlemania

There is something of a modern iteration of Beatlemania happening these days, at least on the commercial front, thanks to the long-awaited release of the newly remastered CDs of the band’s entire catalog and the much-hyped Beatles edition of the Rock Band video game.

So with Beatles on my mind, I recently watched Composing the Beatles Songbook, a documentary on the songwriting of John Lennon and Paul McCartney during the 1966-1970 period. This film came out in 2008 to universal, if not high-profile, acclaim.

As a connoisseur of music documentaries, I’m fascinated by in-depth looks at some of the greatest music of our lifetime. Prior to watching this one, I thought I knew quite a bit about The Beatles, but I learned a great deal. It features some real revelations about the music the band produced during its most creative period – particularly on the landmark Revolver and Sgt. Pepper albums.

A half-dozen or so legitimate authorities (music critics, friends of the band and musical associates) offer expert analysis and thoughtful interpretations of The Beatles music. This is no hackneyed “unauthorized critical review” with C-grade sources – a genre that has proliferated in recent years. Nor is it exactly one of the highly reputable “The Making of … [Insert Classic Album Name Here]” films in which producers, engineers and artists revisit the master tapes of epic works and reminisce about how they were made. Both entertaining and credible, Composing the Beatles Songbook offers a nice balance between mainstream appeal and enough musical detail to sate musical obsessives like me. It covers the evolution of the Lennon/McCartney songwriting partnership over a number of years, not just on one classic release. Of course, with The Beatles’ albums during this period, they’re all classic releases. But they’re also quite different from one another, which makes the story behind the songs all the more interesting.

This film puts each release in the context of the times, circumstance and sensibilities of the artists. In so doing, it does a wonderful job of giving McCartney his due. In most histories of The Beatles, John typically gets all the credit as the edgier, boundary-pushing “artiste,” while Paul is depicted as a talented, but schmaltzy, pop tunesmith. This film, however, portrays McCartney as the enthusiastic, driven, profusely creative and widely varied composer that he was, and casts Lennon as the witty and brilliant, but increasingly distracted/disinterested, artist that he was.

The film starts with a few brief references to 1965’s Rubber Soul, in many ways the last completely collaborative Beatles album, and then digs deeply into the subsequent albums, dissecting key songs from each. Rubber Soul and 1966’s Revolver are portrayed as evidence of Bob Dylan’s influence on The Beatles, particularly on Lennon’s lyrics. After hearing Dylan, John realized that artists could now write about anything.

By the time of Revolver, my favorite Beatles LP, the band had become rich and powerful enough to do whatever they wanted artistically and get away with it. So they did. Meanwhile, Lennon had begun taking LSD, and his altered sense of consciousness crept into his compositions. McCartney, on the other hand, had yet to dabble in the drug (he would get to that later), but he had become fully immersed in the bohemian life of Swinging London, especially avant-garde music.

In examining Revolver, the cast of experts explores the methods and messages behind Paul’s emotive storytelling on “For No One” and “Eleanor Rigby,” with its resonant strings and English literariness, as well as John’s “I’m Only Sleeping” and his genre-pushing “Tomorrow Never Knows,” on which Paul is the one actually responsible for the “trippy” tape loops and sound effects.

One of the most interesting segments in the film is the examination of the band’s 1967 double A side single “Strawberry Fields Forever”/“Penny Lane” – the bridge between the Revolver and Sgt. Pepper albums. We learn that the two songs represent different takes on the changing world and youth viewed in acid-vision (McCartney had now turned on, too) – with John’s “Strawberry Fields” haltingly “stumbling to some kind of truth” about self and Paul’s “Penny Lane” presenting a surrealistic view of the Liverpool of his youth in which “even ordinary things are glittering with possibility.” The music geek in me was fascinated by the explanation that the two different perspectives (current and reflective) in McCartney’s jaunty pop song are tied to the tune’s change in key from B to A. That Paul knew what he was doing!

The band’s next album, the much-analyzed Sgt. Pepper, is depicted as essentially McCartney’s album. While Sgt. Pepper does mark the beginning of Lennon’s retreat from the band, he certainly still had some major contributions to make. Even in his “throwaway” Sgt. Pepper songs – the “found lyricism” of “Good Morning, Good Morning” (inspired by a cereal box) and “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite” (derived from an antique circus poster) – the assembled experts illuminate John’s “last creative genius.”

They also note that while LSD may have inspired Lennon to look inward, that was not the case with Paul. For example, on “When I’m Sixty-Four” (with its old music hall reference points), McCartney’s focus is on history amidst a world of change. The film even manages to offer new insights on the epic “A Day in the Life,” considered by many to be the band’s ultimate achievement and the two songwriters’ last true co-write. The experts discuss how this “great fusion” married Lennon’s newsy observations with Paul’s unique ability to fill the interstitial spaces in big concepts. The result: a greater, astonishing whole.

The documentary breezes through the Magical Mystery Tour album and the Yellow Submarine soundtrack to arrive at the 1968 recording sessions for The White Album, which were marred by mounting tensions within the band (they were growing up, out and away from the original band concept, according to John). The resulting album was more a collection of individually composed songs (some of which were still remarkable) than the band collaborations of yore. There’s interesting analyses of Paul’s “Hey Jude,” revealed to be more than just a song about John’s young son Julian, and “Helter Skelter” McCartney’s railing against his image as the light pop songsmith of the band (which I knew), as well as his reaction to The Who’s contemporary “I Can See for Miles” single (which I didn’t know).

Yet, despite their drifting apart, the musicians still put in the effort to work as a band on occasion, as evidenced by their slogging through 97 takes of John’s “Happiness Is a Warm Gun.” And while Lennon’s “Revolution No. 9” was clearly the result of Yoko Ono’s avant-garde influence, it is pointed out that McCartney had composed a similar noise experiment two years earlier (remember the “Tomorrow Never Knows” period?).

In early 1969, Paul led the ill-fated “Get Back” sessions in an effort to reclaim the band’s roots as a live band (hence the famous London rooftop appearance), but by then it was obvious that John was no longer in team spirit. Then, finally, there’s Abbey Road, during which the other three Beatles essentially just tolerated Lennon’s distracted self-absorption. Nevertheless, John brought two strong songs [“Come Together” and “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”] to the effort, while Paul and producer George Martin crafted the famous suite that makes up the second side of the album.

Unfortunately, there is little reference throughout the film to George or Ringo beyond a brief nod to the influence of band members (versus hired sidemen) on the recording process. Harrison’s notable, if few, compositions fall outside the scope of the film, though there is recognition that by the time of Abbey Road he had assumed as much compositional weight as Lennon in the band, notably contributing “Something” and “Here Comes the Sun” to The Beatles’ final studio effort (it was recorded after, though released before Let It Be).

What does appear to be more of an oversight is the utter absence of George Martin in the film, either as a subject of the discussion or as one of the experts. As the producer and widely recognized fifth Beatle, his role in the renowned compositions of this fertile period undoubtedly merit more mention, if not full examination. (After all, who do you think scored all those orchestral segments on Revolver and Sgt. Pepper?)

I’m not sure if you can get Composing the Beatles Songbook: Lennon and McCartney 1966-1970 on NetFlix etc., I got mine from Amazon. But either way, if you are interested in The Beatles, or even just an examination of song writing, it’s worth checking out this inspired documentary.

Note: There is a companion DVD to this release that covers the band’s earlier years (1957-1965). I have not seen that. It seems less intriguing since, despite their phenomenal popularity, the band was not quite as trailblazing compositionally during those years. Nevertheless, the quality of the second volume suggests that the first one may be worth checking out, too.