Fifty years on, still one of the most remarkable recordings ever made. Let's see how it happened:
Tues Jan 17 - In the Daily Mail, John Lennon reads the coroner's report on Tara Browne's car crash as well as a little piece about 4,000 holes in the road in Blackburn, Lancashire.
Thur Jan 19 - Lennon's written his part of the song, and brought it to Abbey Road. The first recording takes place, with Lennon singing and playing guitar, McCartney on piano, Harrison on marracas, and Ringo on bongos. They leave 24 bars blank for something - what it will be has yet to be determined - that will happen between the two sections of Lennon's song, and again at the end. Mal Evans counts these sections off, and sets off an alarm clock at the end of his count. There is no middle section at this point - after the mysterious 24 bar something the song goes straight into the final verse. The band does three takes, using just two of the four available tracks. Take four is Lennon overdubbing two more lead vocals on the two blank tracks.
Fri Jan 20 - A reduction mix is made of the previous days work, comping the three Lennon vocals to achieve a final - for the moment - lead vocal and creating available tracks for more work. McCartney's middle section, with a vocal and an instrumental section, makes its first appearance. It is placed between the first 24 bar section and Lennon's final verse. Paul overdubs a bass track, Ringo overdubs drums, and Lennon takes another crack at the lead vocal.
Mon Jan 30 - George Martin makes a rough mono mix for demo purposes. The band moves on to other material (a new one from Paul called "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" and a new one from John called "Good Morning, Good Morning.")
Fri Feb 3 - Having presumably listened to the demo, Paul records a new bass part and Ringo replaces his drum part with a series of fills on his toms.
Fri Feb 10 - McCartney had hit on the idea of the orchestra buildup to replace fill the two blank 24 bar sections. George Martin had prepared a conventional score for the orchestra to link McCartney's section with Lennon's final verse. He had also prepared a decidedly unconventional score for the other parts - "Start on the lowest note of your instrument, arrive at the highest E major by the 24th bar, and pay no attention to how the fellow next to you is doing it."
On this evening, 40 musicians were hired to record this strange bit. In order to make the sound as massive as possible, Martin and his engineers (Ken Townsend and Geoff Emerick) ran two four track machines together. Such a procedure had never been attempted before, at least not at Abbey Road, but Townsend had figured a way to sync the machines together. It allowed them to record the orchestra four times, using all four tracks of the second machine, effectively creating a 160 piece orchestra. Martin would later note that the synchronization is a little off - "rather a hit and miss affair, and the orchestra is slightly out of time in places.")
Film cameras were there to record the fun, and many guests were invited as you can see from the video. The most recognizable would be Mick and Marianne, Keith Richards, Michael Nesmith, and Donovan.
When the orchestra had finished its work, the band attempted to record the song's ending, which at this point was going to be a long, loud "Hmmmm." They did 11 takes of this, and mixed it down.
Wed Feb 22 - A new idea for the song's ending, probably from McCartney who leads the session. He, Lennon, Ringo, and Mal Evans gather round three pianos and attempt to bash out an E major chord simultaneously. It took nine takes to get that right (bear in mind that two of the participants were a drummer and a roadie), and Geoff Emerick then played all kinds of games with his faders to squeeze every last second of dying sound out of chord as it faded. Once that was done, the remainder of the session was devoted to making mono and stereo mixes of the song.
Thu Feb 23 - The final stereo mix was finished.
Wed Mar 1 - Although the final mixes were in the can, McCartney records a piano overdub. It would never be used.
Thu Jun 1 - Album released in the UK.
Friday, February 10, 2017
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Fifty Years Ago Today
January 17, 1967. A Tuesday, like today. John Lennon was sitting at his piano with the Daily Mail propped up in front of him. The Daily Mail was and remains a right-wing tabloid rather like the Toronto Sun, but the Beatles didn't much care for Harold Wilson's Labour government anyway. The reasons why were explained by George Harrison in "Taxman" - with Wilson's 95% supertax ("one for you, nineteen for me"), the Beatles were taking care of the UK's balance of payments problem almost single-handedly.
The Mail that day had an article on the death of Tara Browne in a car crash a few weeks earlier. A week before Christmas, Browne had run a red light at high speed in South Kensington and crashed into a van. Browne was the heir to the Guinness fortune on his mother's side. His father Dominick Browne, the 4th Baron Oranmore and Browne, had sat in the House of Lords since 1927.
Browne was just 21, rich and handsome, cool and charming, in the centre of the social life of Swinging London. He liked to party, he liked to consume drugs, he liked to drive very fast. His chums were Terence Stamp and David Hemmings, Michael Caine and David Bailey. Lennon knew Browne slightly, but didn't much like him just on general principle. Lennon, a kind of reverse snob, had little use for anyone with Browne's upper class background. McCartney knew him much better. It was Tara Browne who introduced Macca to acid. It was Tara Browne with whom Paul went out riding mopeds while high as kites. Macca crashed, broke a tooth, split his lip, and grew the first Beatle moustache while it healed. The Rolling Stones knew Tara better still. Brian Jones was especially close to Browne, and Keith and Anita named their third child Tara in his memory.
Lennon and McCartney had been wondering a few days earlier if Tara would have inherited his father's seat in the upper House. He wouldn't have - Tara had three older brothers, one of whom would inherit the peerage, while another would eventually become one of the founders of the Chieftains. Anyway, the elder Browne lived to be 100 and held his seat until it was abolished in 1999. Even so, he had served in the upper chamber for 72 years, longer than any other peer. In all that time, the old man never once made a speech to the House.
The Mail article that day reported on the coroner's verdict on Browne's accident. He was driving much too fast. He missed the light. Sources disagree as to whether he was high or not.
"I saw the photograph..."
Also in the Mail that day was a short piece on the sorry state of England's roads.
The Mail that day had an article on the death of Tara Browne in a car crash a few weeks earlier. A week before Christmas, Browne had run a red light at high speed in South Kensington and crashed into a van. Browne was the heir to the Guinness fortune on his mother's side. His father Dominick Browne, the 4th Baron Oranmore and Browne, had sat in the House of Lords since 1927.
Browne was just 21, rich and handsome, cool and charming, in the centre of the social life of Swinging London. He liked to party, he liked to consume drugs, he liked to drive very fast. His chums were Terence Stamp and David Hemmings, Michael Caine and David Bailey. Lennon knew Browne slightly, but didn't much like him just on general principle. Lennon, a kind of reverse snob, had little use for anyone with Browne's upper class background. McCartney knew him much better. It was Tara Browne who introduced Macca to acid. It was Tara Browne with whom Paul went out riding mopeds while high as kites. Macca crashed, broke a tooth, split his lip, and grew the first Beatle moustache while it healed. The Rolling Stones knew Tara better still. Brian Jones was especially close to Browne, and Keith and Anita named their third child Tara in his memory.
Lennon and McCartney had been wondering a few days earlier if Tara would have inherited his father's seat in the upper House. He wouldn't have - Tara had three older brothers, one of whom would inherit the peerage, while another would eventually become one of the founders of the Chieftains. Anyway, the elder Browne lived to be 100 and held his seat until it was abolished in 1999. Even so, he had served in the upper chamber for 72 years, longer than any other peer. In all that time, the old man never once made a speech to the House.
The Mail article that day reported on the coroner's verdict on Browne's accident. He was driving much too fast. He missed the light. Sources disagree as to whether he was high or not.
"I saw the photograph..."
Also in the Mail that day was a short piece on the sorry state of England's roads.
Monday, January 9, 2017
Another Reason to Love David Bowie
Yesterday would have been Bowie's 70th birthday, and I thought I'd mention just one more reason why we should all love David Bowie.
In June 1972, Bowie released his fifth album - Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. It quite suddenly made him an enormous international star, after years of trying. Did he take advantage of his sudden fame, and go berserk on all the drugs and sex that were now at his fingertips?
Well, yeah, of course he did.
But not right away. There was a band called Mott the Hoople who were on the verge of breaking up. Bowie discovered this when Mott's bass player, Pete Watts, made enquiries about joining Bowie's band. But Bowie was a fan, and very much wanted to see them to stay together. So he offered to produce a single for them and even gave them a song. It was called "Drive-in Saturday" and - amazingly - Mott turned it down. (Can't you just hear Ian Hunter singing that? What were they thinking?) Undaunted, Bowie offered them another song. This one was called "Suffragette City," and Mott passed on that one too. They were clearly all quite eager to go back to their factory jobs or whatever it was they had in mind. But there was no way they or anyone could resist "All the Young Dudes." Bowie spent June and July 1972 in the studio with them, recording the album that would save their career.
That done, in August 1972 Bowie and Mick Ronson went into the studio with Lou Reed. Big Lou was one of Bowie's idols. His solo career was floundering after his first album had disappeared without a trace. And he was Lou Reed, of course. Lou was a notoriously difficult person to work with, and often enough he was just a difficult person to be in the same room with. But Bowie found a way. This collaboration produced Transformer and "Walk on the Wild Side" gave Lou the only thing resembling a hit in his long career. Lou Reed on AM radio? That actually happened? Yes, David Bowie made it happen, and Transformer is still one of the great Reed records, full of great songs like "Perfect Day" and "Satellite of Love"
Finally, in September and October 1972, Bowie breathed life back into Iggy Pop. The world's forgotten boy had been shooting heroin and living on the street since the demise of the original Stooges after 1970's Fun House. The first record they made together, Raw Power, revived Iggy's career and while it sure has a funny mix it also has some of the definitive Iggy songs: "Gimme Danger," "Search and Destroy," "Penetration."
These months of public and artistic service behind him... yeah, then I guess Bowie went nuts with the drugs and the sex and all that. But you sure have to appreciate his priorities.
In June 1972, Bowie released his fifth album - Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars. It quite suddenly made him an enormous international star, after years of trying. Did he take advantage of his sudden fame, and go berserk on all the drugs and sex that were now at his fingertips?
Well, yeah, of course he did.
But not right away. There was a band called Mott the Hoople who were on the verge of breaking up. Bowie discovered this when Mott's bass player, Pete Watts, made enquiries about joining Bowie's band. But Bowie was a fan, and very much wanted to see them to stay together. So he offered to produce a single for them and even gave them a song. It was called "Drive-in Saturday" and - amazingly - Mott turned it down. (Can't you just hear Ian Hunter singing that? What were they thinking?) Undaunted, Bowie offered them another song. This one was called "Suffragette City," and Mott passed on that one too. They were clearly all quite eager to go back to their factory jobs or whatever it was they had in mind. But there was no way they or anyone could resist "All the Young Dudes." Bowie spent June and July 1972 in the studio with them, recording the album that would save their career.
That done, in August 1972 Bowie and Mick Ronson went into the studio with Lou Reed. Big Lou was one of Bowie's idols. His solo career was floundering after his first album had disappeared without a trace. And he was Lou Reed, of course. Lou was a notoriously difficult person to work with, and often enough he was just a difficult person to be in the same room with. But Bowie found a way. This collaboration produced Transformer and "Walk on the Wild Side" gave Lou the only thing resembling a hit in his long career. Lou Reed on AM radio? That actually happened? Yes, David Bowie made it happen, and Transformer is still one of the great Reed records, full of great songs like "Perfect Day" and "Satellite of Love"
Finally, in September and October 1972, Bowie breathed life back into Iggy Pop. The world's forgotten boy had been shooting heroin and living on the street since the demise of the original Stooges after 1970's Fun House. The first record they made together, Raw Power, revived Iggy's career and while it sure has a funny mix it also has some of the definitive Iggy songs: "Gimme Danger," "Search and Destroy," "Penetration."
These months of public and artistic service behind him... yeah, then I guess Bowie went nuts with the drugs and the sex and all that. But you sure have to appreciate his priorities.
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