In the Studio

With all the current hype about the Abbey Road album going on right now,  I thought it would be fun to see how it was reported in Beatle Book Monthly / Datebook at the time. 

In the Studio
By Frederick James

Beatle people could not be blamed for being more than a bit confused about the current year's recording policy of Messrs. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr.  Over Easter the four made a sudden holiday-weekend decision to rush out "Get Back" as a single.  Very soon afterward, while that worldwide chart-topper was still being collected by fans everywhere, out came "The Ballad of John and Yoko" to be followed not too much later by the Plastic Ono Band's "Give Peace a Chance" which was issued just a couple of months ago.

But still no 1969 LP release, still no fresh album program to follow up on last autumn's pair of LP discs which carried tracks that are now between 10 and 18 months old.  True there have been Beatle-associated LP records -- Paul's production of Postcard for Mary Hopkin, George's much anticipated Billy Preston LP bundle and the rather less commercial works of John, Yoko and George on their pair of Zapple LP discs.  We thought they'd be a full scale "Get Back" LP by the Beatles -- but it's been postponed.  We thought there'd be a special rock n' roll LP - but there's no scheduled issue date for the wealth of rock material like Shake, Rattle and Roll, Blue Suede Shoes and the re-vamped Love Me Do which the lads started putting on tape as long ago as January 26, 1969.

Now at last Apple HQ have told us that the boys' first 1969 album, "Abbey Road" will be released in September.  John, Paul, George, and Ringo have been recording material for the new LP since the beginning of July when "Get BAck" release plans were shelved.

On the other hand latest rumours, whispers and press statements from the Apple HQ suggest that any moment now there WILL be another new Beatles' album in the record stores, one for which John, Paul, George, and Ringo have been recording material since the beginning of July when "Get Back" release plans were shelved.

So here's what's been happening during all these recent recording sessions.  Quite a few entirely new compositions have been written and recorded.  In other cases it has been a matter of digging out tapes of unissued titles made earlier in the year, changing some of the arrangements, starting from scratch again or just adding extra sounds to existing stuff "in the can."

By the end of July, six new numbers had been completed.  Paul contributed You Never Give Me Your Money, Golden Slumbers and a quickie item called Her Majesty.  George contributed Here Comes the Sun (The Sun King) which has finished up a group effort from the vocal viewpoint and john weighed in with Come Together and Mean Mister Mustard.

In addition, six other numbers where had been worked on earlier were brought back into play during the July sessions.  These were Paul's Maxwell's Silver Hammer (written last year and the very first title the lads worked on in 1969 during a January 13 session at the Apple studio), Paul's Bathroom Window (which also dates back to January 13 and the same Apple studio session), Paul's Oh Darling, John's Polythene Pam (which goes back to autumn '68 and was a track which almost went on the double LP at that time), George's Something (first worked on in the Apple studio during January and February) and Ringo's Octopus Garden (which was started on April 26 and which I believe we've mentioned once or twice in earlier issues of Beatles Monthly under the title "Octopussy's Garden).

As I write this piece, the idea is to fill most of, or even the whole of, one LP side with one marathon series of songs all woven together into a fairly spectacular performance.  the marathon set -- Paul's idea-- looks as though it will include about half-a-dozen different numbers.

Let's look at the marathon material in recording date order.  The first song involved is "You Never Give Me Your Money" upon which the group started work on Tuesday, July 15.  The one is about a boy talking to a girl -- "you never give me your money, only your funny papers."  Like most of the marathon set numbers, it's a bit like "Hey Jude" in general mood and it has Paul singing slowly and in sweet voice.  In addition, Paul is featured on piano here and on the other marathon track items.

John's "Mean Mister Mustard" was started nine days later.  This is John in his best jiving suit telling the tale of a mean old man.

Also on Thursday, July 24, they went to work on "Here Comes the Sun (The Sun King)", although the track had been started initially nearly three weeks earlier with George singing lead vocals and playing acoustic guitar, Paul on bass and Ringo on drums - in John's absence.  Later John and the other three other added some intricate vocal harmony to the original recording.

Paul's "Bathroom Window" was started on Friday, July 25.  The lyrics of this one tell a strange little story about a rich girl ("she came in through the bathroom window Protected by a silver spoon, but now she sucks her thumb and wonders By the banks of her own lagoon") who claimed to have been a club dancer and who has a boyfriend who quit the police department to get himself a steady job!

John's "Polythene Pam" went into production on Monday, July 28, with John playing maracas as well as handling the lead vocal.  Paul and George providing background singing, Paul playing a cowbell and George banging upon a tambourine.  This is a medium-tempo number all about the curious Pam who is "so good looking she looks like a man."!

Perhaps Paul's best ballad contribution to the set of six marathon numbers is "Golden Slumbers," obviously about someone sleeping and given a suitable dreamy McCartney treatment.  This one was started on the last day of July.

In John's absence at the beginning of July, Paul started work on his own "Her Majesty" number.  This is a very brief item so far, the type of mini-track of just about eight lines which could be used as a link between two full-length numbers anywhere on the other side of the new LP.  On July 2 Paul recorded his vocal and accompanied himself on acoustic guitar.  In gist, the words tell of a boy who would like to get his girl to know he loves her, but her moods change all the time and he never gets around to it unless he's got a few drinks inside him.  To the first solo tape Paul made, he, George and Ringo added vocal accompaniment the next day with Geoge playing his red Gibson and Paul on Epiphone.

Paul started a new version of "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" on July, accompanying his vocal on guitar and joined by George's 4-string guitar and Ringo playing anvil.  Actually, when the Beatles made their first earlier version of this title many months back, Mal was on anvil, but by this time he and Neil were away on holiday so Ringo deputized!!!

Two days later vocal backing by Paul, George, and Ringo was added.  George used his acoustic guitar and George Martin played the organ.  The story of Maxwell Edison, a student majoring in medicine, is a rather bizarre one, to say the least of it.  His girlfriend, Joan (who studied science --"late night all alone with a test tube) finishes up being killed by a blow to her head from Maxwell's silver hammer.  Despite the theme of muder, this is a jolly up-tempo presentation.

George's "Something" is a track which has been tried, changed and tried again a few times during the year.  As early as May 2 it was re-vamped and recorded, although it was not until July 12 that George dubbed on his final vocal.  Several days later Paul and Ringo added handclapping and background singing.  This has turned out to be a very fine track, a great, slow, easy George number which just flowers along,   It has George describing the nice things about a girl.

On Thursday, July 17, the group returned to Ringo's specialty piece, the novelty number he'd brought into the studio back towards the end of April.  The story of his self-penned solo vocal item, Octopus Garden is not unlike that of Yellow Submarine, the number John and Paul gave Ringo to sing several years ago.  It's all about a garden at the bottom of the sea where people can play happily and know they're safe.  In addition to singing, Ringo plays drums on this track with Paul on piano, John and George on guitars and Paul adding his usual bass guitar contribution.  Halfway through Paul and George do some high-pitched vocal acrobatics, letting their voices gurgle through special amplifiers until they come out sounding like mermen in not mermaids!  Meanwhile, Ringo blew bubbles into a glass for additional atmosphere effect!


Paul's "Oh Darling" completed on Friday, July 18, is an exceptionally strong McCartney presentation, a real tear-jerker of a ballad to bring back memories.

And finally, we come to John's "Come Together" which was started on Monday, July 21.  Very, very freaky lyrics to this one and I won't even attempt to explain the theme of them -- but it's a song that has to be heard in its finished form to be fully appreciated.  Bluesy but up-tempo, it's typically John all the way through.

And that's as much as I can tell you about all the new recordings.  Most of them -- plus, perhaps, some last-minute material put on tape within the last fortnight of the current session series will appear on the Beatles' much delayed but eagerly awaited First LP album of 1969.  Curiously, since a lot of earlier recording work, this year was done at Apple's own studio beneath the Savile Row Apple HQ offices in London's West End, all the July, and August stuff has gone on tape at EMI Studios up in Abbey Road, St. John's Wood.   That's because the fellows have been waiting for new Apple Studio equipment to be put in working order and it was unthinkable that their summer LP session should be delayed still further just because a mixer and a few other pieces of electronic mechanism were still in the installation stage.

On the other hand, the Beatles' return to Abbey Road was greatly welcomed by more than a few Beatle People vacationing in London during July and August.   It was quite like old times outside the EMI studios with day-long bunches of fans waiting outside the doors (or out on the pavement beyond the sets of iron gates if they didn't manage to sneak in behind an arriving or departing car) to get a glimpse of a favorite Beatle.   Most days at least half the assembled fan crowd was made up of touring Americans who will have taken home to the USA treasured memories of brief chats with Paul or much fingered Polaroid snpas of themselves with Ringo, George or John!

John Lennon: A Natural High

John Lennon:  A Natural High
By Alan Smith

Hit Parader
January 1970

The sun burns brightly through the Savile Row window and it's a hot and sticky busy day at Apple, with Yoko hammering away at the electric typewriter and John Lennon in conversation and all the while the beautiful No 1 smash sound of an unreleased Lennon song called, "Give Peace a Chance," soaring and thumping around the room.

A statement of fact is that this record will sell several million and that, like "All You Need Is Love," it will echo like an anthem across the world.

A pleasant and intriguing Irishman named Cecil McCartney has been in, not to claim some long-forgotten Beatles' relationship but to talk about war and peace and his loathing for the fiery death they call Napalm.

Lennon has been inspired and the result is that several hundred plastic dolls have been bought and now await mutilation and destruction in a grisly protest burning in London's King Road the following day.  One of them lies on the table, naked and pink and innocent and with its feeding bottle aloft.

"We're only at the beginning of selling our peace product,"  John is saying, "and I think and I hope it's beginning to work.  Yoko and I can only go on the reactions we get from people when we're going down the street together - of course.   I know we don't' get people really against us.  some of them do give us a dirty look, but the others ..... bus drivers and lorry drivers and that... some of them say, "Ow yer doin'?' and 'Good luck,' and all that stuff.

"The way I see it is, even if they don't get the gist of us, or why are those people hamming in nails or staying in bed... they know we're in favor of peace.  They know what we stand for.   This is only the start of the campaign.  And they'll soon all know our message, and what we're trying to say.   Sure, I know we've been criticized by some papers.  but you know some of these journalists and people talk as if they feel they represent somebody.

"One journalist might think we need more communication...but that's unfortunate.  They must get out of the habit -- newspaper men and pop stars, anybody -- must talk for themselves.  I mean, how does one journalist know how most people feel?  O.K., so the people in his office might agree with him.  But how many straights does he know -- how many people that aren't boozy journalists?"

I nod, swigging swiftly at the bottle of whiskey I whip from my pocket in a sudden secretive scoop.

"In the same way, I can only judge from my side in that how many straights do I know besides of Apple, or those I meet?  I can only judge the reaction I get by people waving or sending me letters.  and that happens.  Sure, Yoko and I both know the criticism about us spending $4,000 at the Hilton on a bed-in when we could spend it feeding babies in Biafra.

"The situation is, I've done that as well -- the charity bit.  And I respect the sentiments behind charity, and I will continue to do things like that.  But it doesn't solve the problem.   It's like nursing the cancer after somebody's got it. There's a lot of cancer to be cured.  But it still doesn't stop research.  And we look on what we're trying to do for peace as research -- to prevent Biafra happening next time.

"I could give all my money to Biafra and maybe a few thousand kids would be safe for that day.  But the war would still go on.  I'm using my money as an overall campaign to advertise the cause of peace.   You know, these people who criticize ... what are they doing?  You've got to remember -- all of you -- that this is me and Yoko's best effort.  It's with both of our minds.

"So if any of you out there can think of a better idea, then we'll do that.  But until you come up with an alternative, and not just why don't you give it to the spastics and not the deaf then we'll stick to the way we are.  The thing about trying to bring change in that everybody in the world sits back and blame everybody else.  The whole human race is like that.  We vote people into Parliament and to run the Government for us, and then we sit back and claim how badly they're doing it.  We always use a scapegoat, and the whole system's just like that.  Everybody sits in the armchair and says Harold Wilson did this and Harold Wilson did that ... but it's our fault, not Harold Wilson's. "

He picks up the pink doll and pull its plastic arm out of the socket, and pauses for a moment and looks at the table and listens as Yoko speaks rapid Japanese into the telephone.

"Once,"  I told him, "you used to frighten the hell out of me.  There was a time when I'd expect your next words to be 'you four-eyed git,'  Now, I find myself more at ease in your company.  You're far more mellow."

He tries to push the doll's arm back into place as he says, "That's because I'm more myself now.  I'm introverted and in saying that, it would have been to prevent you saying 'four-eyed git' to me.   It's just a case of simple games.  The Games People Play.  It's just that I had the game of aggression.  Aggression was my defense.  As soon as somebody came near me, I'd make the first punch.  If they couldn't handle that then maybe I'd be cruel or maybe I'd be kind.

Now I'm relaxed enough to be myself and be less frightened of what people are going to say.  Another thing is when I didn't wear glasses I used to be more uninhibited.  In Hamburg, for instance, when I could never see the audience -- I'd just get carried away on my own."

He looks around for a prying instrument and then he puts down the baby's arm and takes hold of the feeding bottle, and then he tries to jam the bottle into the empty armpit.  He doesn't say anything, but he gets it in, in the end -- one arm, one feeding bottle.

"The thing about performing now is," he says, "we still just don't agree on it.  We're just four middle-aged teenagers, who don't agree on it.  We're all professional musicians, sure, but musicians aren't necessarily performers.  I mean, I'd go out.  But you're talking to me, and The Beatles as such, don't want to go out on the road.  I don't mind having a bed-in is being out on the road as far as I'm concerned.   I think George and Ringo don't really fancy it, but I don't want to point a finger at them and say they're the reason.  Maybe there's a little something inside me saying the same thing.

"Singing in front of an audience and playing, I'd enjoy.  But the rest of it all ... that's the problem.  Maybe in ten years, like Elvis, who knows?"

He takes hold of the spare arm and he pulls it and presses it and molds it to a pliable plastic.

"I'm happy with life," he answers me, "as happy as anybody can be.  The only blots are violence and war and starvation and all that.  You can't be happy with all that going on.  If I have a good percentage of happiness, it's because I'm grateful for life, and I'm in love and I'm happy with my wife and I thank God for it.  And all that bit.

"In fighting and doing my bit for peace.  I don't believe that thing that man will always fight because it's in his nature.  That's just the Establishment, for thousands of years, telling us that.  They say that because it suits the Establishment, it suits the military, to tell us we're all basically soldiers.  We're just as much non-violent as we are violent.  It's all that 'be a man my son' thing we get a 'you wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for me, my son.'  'I fought..." you know the whole thing.  I believe you can use music as some sort of a platform to bring people together, but so can you use dancing and painting and even walking and all of the media."

Musically, adds John Lennon, the Beatles have more than ever before to say, and they have one album ready and another one-half ready.

"The Beatles album that's ready is like an unfinished rehearsal for that show that we never did.  It's The Beatles show that never was.  There's bits of dialogue on it and 'Get Back's' the most finished tune.  So you can imagine what some of it's like.   We've no date for it yet because there's a book with it and that's not ready yet.  There is another album and that's by John and Yoko -- and that's also got a book with it. It's like a wedding album.  And it's great."

"In all this new Beatles' stuff there's obviously McCartney hits there...and there's one beautiful ballad called 'Let it Be' which is a cert for somebody.  A cert.  And there's quite a few cert hits on it for other people."

He twists the doll's arm inside out and looks down at it with some satisfaction.

"I think Apple's running much better," he says.  "I don't know if you can tell.  We're rectifying the past mistakes.  Clearing up. It's also been convenient for people to leave at this time.  I like that expression, 'Convenient to leave at this time.'  I'd like Apple to be more commercial for sure.  I'd like it to be economically viable.  I don't care about respect.  We'd still like to attract talent but we want it to be self-contained and to be able to look after itself.  In the past, all we got when we said 'Come to Apple' was people who'd been turned down everywhere else.

"At the moment, there's only really us and Mary Hopkins as names on Apple, although George's done some good stuff with Billy Preston and I think he's got good possibilities."

It is time to go and he smiles warmly and proffers the inside-out doll's arm, with its hand which now faces in the wrong direction. I get the impression he only now appreciates the subconscious havoc he has piled upon it.

These days, John Lennon is happy to talk but not to drop himself into some new, fresh drag of controversy.  And on some topics, he's becoming pleasantly and null evasive in the way that only Paul McCartney has really developed to a fine art.

He told me:  "there's one film idea we're interested in, but I'm not telling you what it is.  There's certainly hope for us doing another film.  It's being kicked around.  The only reason I don't want to talk is that other people are naturally involved and I don't want to screw 'em up.  Anyway, we got a fantastic film out of making our next LP.  It really is incredible.  Just the sweat and strain of four guys making an LP.  It's being pared down to about four hours.  It could make a major movie.

"About our music...these characters who talk about us progressing or not, really null mind their own business. Progressing to what?   Music is music.  All these characters complain about us and Dylan not being progressive, but we're the ones that turned them on to the other stuff -- so let 'em take our word for it.  This is music, baby.  When we feel like changing, then fine.



"Not that I'm interested in classical music.  I think it's history, and I'm not interested in history, only as a hobby.  I'm interested in NOW.  And the future."

About America:  "I can't disguise that to get my visa back means a lot.  A lot.  I need to go there, for business at least.  I'll just have to keep trying.  Anyway these days, I don't take drugs, alcohol or meat.  They all interfere with my head.  And that's straight.  Or sugar --- I think it's all bad.   These days, I'm completely macrobiotic.  I know it sounds strange, but it's great and it keeps you high all the time.  you don't just get high now and then, this way you're permanently high."

In Bed with John and Yoko

I found this interview in a scrapbook.  Sadly whoever owned it, super-glued the pages into the book and some of the interview was on the back of the page, so it is not the complete interview. 

FYI:  This interview is a bit rated R.


In Bed With John and Yoko (or who beat the Beatles off?)
By Jim Buckley

A funny thing happened to me on my way to Montreal last month.  It took me two hours to get through Customs, and then, even though I had $500 in my pocket, got permission to stay for only 24 hours.  What happened was my brother opened his big mouth and mentioned that we were from SCREW and were up there to interview John Lennon.   He apparently forgot that Lennon spent 7 hours at Customs and only got a ten-day visa!  Well, we did manage to get through but not before David's big mouth was covered and he was forced to suck the dick of the Customs Lieutenant.  I was spared the view of this disgusting act since they retired to a private office together. 

Even then we got one day, so I wonder what you gotta do for TEN days?

Getting by the diddyboppers in the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel was the last major obstacle to the Fab Four (as John Lennon would say).  The Camera Crew from WNEW-TV, Metro Media, who were up there were doing their thing for a Friday night Special.  When I first entered the Lennon & Ono (oh yeah?) Suite, there was a rush to see who would shake my hand first.  Yoko Ono won the bout and I was completely taken aback by her charm and beauty, notwithstanding the fact that she fell in love with me at first sight.   And there was John Lennon at my feet with a bucket of water.  He wanted to wash my feet with his hair!  I kindly reminded him that I was wearing shoes, but that if he could find some bootlick, I'd be delighted to accommodate myself to a spit shine.   I finally got to meet Derek and shook hands, which was difficult what with Beatle John snapping his rag below (to the tune of "If I fell in love with you).

After we got to know each other a little better John and Yoko supplied us all with pajamas and me, Dave, Sandy, Judy, Derek, John, and Yoko crawled into bed.  It was a night to remember.  What follows is the account of that memorable evening, recorded by Sony (how's that for a plug for the old country, Yoko?) 

Jim:  Well,  now that we have all gathered unto you, let's ask the first question, which will be -  What was your first sex experience?

John:  Well, the first one I can remember was in school, a junior school and me and a few lads.

Jim:  How old were you?

John:  Oh, probably around six, you know.  I don't remember anything before that really, I mean I supposed your first sex experience is fiddlin' with yourself, but the first of my big episode was a little girl up in entry and we had her knickers down and some guy came along you know, and she ran away.  She was about 4 years old.  All the other guys got caught but me (heh, heh), so that's why I remember it so well.  We were just lookin' and before that, I can't really remember anything.

Jim:  What about after that?  You know, when you were a bit older?

John:  Oh well, when I was about 12, my major experience was the man in the pictures with his mac.  I'd learned from me cousin that you stick pins in him, she was a girl, you see, so she knew all about it, and she told me about stickin' pins, but I didn't have a pin so I punched him, but I was undecided, I was quite excited.  I was halfy-halfy.  I was petrified, as well, I kept telling the mates next to me, "Hey this guy's got his hand up (I still had short trousers), and they would say, "ah, it's just you blabbin' your mouth off again," you know, nobody believed me.  It was all too Mickey Mouse.  That's as far as we go, after 12 we're in danger.  Fuck for peace, folks, fuck for peace.  (Censor's note:   In case anyone is wondering if John Lennon was actually cussing, he pronounces fuck as foock, so as long as he's on this side of the Atlantic he's alright). 

Jim:  How about you, Yoko, what was your first sex experience?

John:  come on Yoko, tell the folks out there about your first sex experience.  And what age was it?

John:  Tell us about the doctor!

Yoko:  O.K.  When I was 9 years old I was in the country evacuating because of the war (The second World War) and all my family was in Tokyo or in Europe, and I was the only one left there staying with my brother and a couple of maids or something.  Well, I got sick and the doctor came and he was coming every day and then at one point he said, "Why don't you close your eyes?"  So I closed my eyes and he started to sort of like say, "Well, does this hurt" and he was pushing my tummy and all that, just like a doctor does, you know.  I kept telling him no, it doesn't hurt but his hand just went going down and he was saying, "does this hurt?"  And I thought well, this is a doctor and I should respect him being the situation and all that.  And then when his hands went down so far, he started to kiss me or something.  And then I opened my eyes and he had kissed me.

John:  On the face, folks!  His hand was in the way.

Yoko:  So I opened my eyes and he said, "you're beautiful, you're beautiful" or something like that.  And I was just sort of stunned, you know.  And he said, "Oh your dear doctor didn't do anything, did he?  He was just examining you, wasn't he?"  So I said, yes, hew as doing that.  He sort of pretended I supposed, I don't know.  IW as so scared and frozen.  And so I think he was sort of turned off by that all and got scared, or something, so he decided to smoke a cigarette and tried to be very cool about it and said, "When are your parents coming back to Tokyo?  Oh, that's right, they were in Europe."  Just small talk and then he finally left.  The minute he left (because that was the first time anybody had ever kissed me...it was a very uncomfortable sort of feeling.  This is in Japan and there isn't any sort of habit of kissing each other unless you're lovers).  I immediately ran to the basin and started to vomit, spit, wash my mouth with soap and all that, I was crying all over and everything.

Jim:  Did you understand what you were doing?

Yoko:  No, no.  I didn't understand at all.  I just felt it was all terribly evil.  The poor doctor was just saying "you're beautiful, you're beautiful," and was very excited, and all that, so maybe he wasn't all that evil.  I don't know, but at that time I thought he was the most evil man in existence.

Jim:  How old were you when you had your first experience with a man, say around your own age?

Yoko:  All right, I just reveal to you the age that I had my first sexual experience, and then you'll understand that I really shouldn't be talking about it.  It was like 24!  That's how old I was.

(At this juncture I had to keep the crowd from overflowing onto the bed gushing forth inanities like "What!  24!!!!"  It was hard to believe, even for the evil and whoresome SCREW crew).

John:  Next question!

Jim:  What's the most disgusting thing you can think of?

John:  I don't know, I mean what's the most disgusting thing you can think of?

Yoko:  Hypocrisy

(Missing page)

Yoko: No, never

Jim:  Were you Catholic?

Yoko:  No, but something almost as strict and puritanical.  There was a little in school...

John:  We spent a whole team leading up to worms making it, and I think they copped out before we got to it.  We'd been waiting for it all the time!  But we never got to it.

Jim:  Worms don't make it, do they?

John:  Well, they do at our school.

Jim:  All they do is shit.  I thought.  Eat at one end and it comes out the other.

John:  No, they sort of wrap themselves up in it.

Sandra:  Aren't they male and female?

John:  Well, maybe they eat themselves, but we had a whole term and never got to the end.  It just sort of ended and we never got to the bit we'd been waiting for.  We all had these questions like, "Isn't it a bit like us?"  We were 14 and 15 by the time we got to that.

Jim:  Did your parents tell you anything?  After you got out of school, what did you do?

Yoko:  I came to the U.S.

Jim:  Oh yeah?

Yoko:  Yes.  I lived in the Village for three years.

Jim:  And you didn't make it with anybody in New York?

John:  Yeah, that's what we don't want to talk about!

Jim:  But I thought you didn't make it until you were 24?

John:  No, she was in Sarah Lawrence school for a long time.  They go out with Harvard doctors up there.

David:  Are you familiar with Yayoi Kusama?

Yoko: Oh yes, of course.

David:  From what I understand she went one way and you went another when you both reached a certain point.

Judy:  We thought you looked like Yayoi from your picture, but close up you're much prettier.

Yoko: Thank you.  She is a very established painter.

(Page missing)

Jim:  What about girls?  What did you think girls had?  Did you know they were different?

John: Oh sure.  I mean cause I was 5 or 7 when I was caught in the entry, or whatever it was.

(Now we're busy capturing history, recording the precious moments while John and Yoko eat away)

Jim: Do you still want to get into the United States?

John:  Sure, I want to see Nixon, to give him an acorn.

Jim:  It seems to me that these aren't the questions SCREW readers want to know about.  Am I a failure at interviewing?

John:  As long as you make me popular, I don't mind.

Jim: The first thing we'll do is move your name up on the masthead.

John:  Thank you.  Keep it moving each week, and if you'll just add Yoko, I'll be most honored.

Sandra:  The mothers of America will never love you anyway.

Jim:  Eventually, the front page of SCREW will read "John Lennon and Yoko Ono present:  SCREW"  How's that?

John:  Thank you very much.  No matter what happens I know that, as a journalist, you'll uphold the very finest traditions of journalism.

Jim:  You know it.  Speaking of knowing it, when did you first hear of SCREW?

John:  I heard about it for months, and then one of our guys came back from New York with it, but by then I'd left.  So it was like that, I'd been hearing about it for some time.  Humor is your greatest weapon.

David:  We've found that if you treat something humorously it goes over much easier and sinks deeper, sex notwithstanding.

John: Yeah, that's the way we're doing our gig.  That is, to do it with a laugh.

Sandra:  If you take yourself too seriously, you don't make it.

John:  We think the whole scene's too serious, that's why SCREW is good.

Jim: Thanks, that's why we're doing SCREW

John:  The whole movement is all a load of intellectual shit.  And all them "Hippie-aware" people are just a gang of snobs.

Jim:  I was once Managing Editor of a paper called the New York Free Press and the main problem with it was it took itself so serious.  If I wanted to say that this cop was kind to children, I'd probably get censored.

John:  Right!  That's where it's at.  Like the Underground in England is so serious.  The International Times is so serious.  The International Times is so serious they won't' even review our records.  Because we made it.  We "sold out" and it's a real laugh.  Now they're talking about changing it and talking about Gandalf and fuckin' Alice in Wonderland.  The Hobbits.

(A couple of people come in and offer everyone bread.  We all accept and Lennon and Yoko involve themselves in eating).

John:  Notice how spontaneous I am?

Jim:  You chew nicely.

John:  But you missed the main bite.

Jim:  No. I've had the tape recorder going all the time, I have every historic mouthful.

John:  I guess it's not often you get a chance like this.

Jim:  You bet.  What's it like to live in a glass bowl?

John:  You get used to it.  We're all in bowls, aren't we?

Jim:  Some of my best friends are in a fruit bowl.

Sandra:  Didn't you know, life was just a bowl of cherries?

John:  You're all mad!

Jim:  Are you guys ever planning to get together again and do something?

John:  I've tried to get them all on the road, but Ringo doesn't want to, so....  I'm not that mad about it, but I'm interested in going out.  So I'm just doing a few gigs with Yoko.

Jim:  There have been insidious rumors abounding in the United States about you guys.  I'm not sure whether I should bring it up or not.

John:  Rumors about the Beatles?

Jim:  Yeah, the rumor is that all the Beatles sleep on the same bed, and it's a round bed.

John:   That's false.  We have different beds every night.


Jim:  We've been trying to squelch that rumor for a long time anyway.

John:  It's just not true.  The Beatles never made it together.

David:  You've just dispelled the American Dream.

John:  Oh, no!

Jim:  It's true.  Everyone thinks you've made it.

John:  Well, ok then, we made it.  But we didn't.

Jim:  Which is your favorite Beatle?

John:  Oh, I don't know.  John's kinda cool, yeah.  I guess I'd pick John.

Jim:  Have you gotten out of bed at all these past few days?

John:  Just to shit and pee.

Jim:  You got that, SCREW readers?  Get close to the mike.

John: Yes, we got out of bed one day and we just SHAT!

Jim:  This is going to be hard to take.  A lot of little girls are going to be very disappointed to find out that a Beatle shits.


John:  I used to wonder about the Queen.

David:  Have you ever heard a girl fart?

John:  I never did hear one.   They were trained at birth.

David:  That's a myth.  I've heard them fart.

John:  Another myth gone.

Jim:  Come on you guys, here lies this invalid, chained to his bed and you sit there calmly breaking up age-old myths in front of his very nose.

John:  Yeah, you telling me all this dirt.  I've come over here and all I get is this crap.

Jim:  You should be ashamed of yourself.

David:  Why did you come to Montreal?

John: Because they wouldn't let me in the States.

David: But you could've gotten in?

(Last page missing)

Happiness is McCartney

Happiness is McCartney
(unknown author)


Paul and Linda McCartney have always  been a devoted couple, but when Paul ended up in court in an attempt to settle the troubles the Beatles had faced, they were brought even closer together. "We were alone a lot at that time,"  Linda explains.  "And Paul was so miserable because he had nobody to play music with.  so he taught me chords and then tunes.  I'd learned to play piano when I was a kid, but I hated it.  But after Paul and I were married we used to sing together around the house.  He was so brilliant it all seemed so easy.   Then he asked me to be in Wings."

and that brought Paul and Linda more knocks.   It's no use pretending that it didn't bother them, but their own great relationship kept them going through the troubles.  "I don't really mind the knocking now,"  Paul says.  "In fact, I'm rather used to it.  Yes, it did upset me, but not now."

"When I do is just play in a band with some friends, sit at a piano and play some songs, and that's it.  If people want to criticise me for that, let them go ahead --  it won't get to me."

Everyone said when the Beatles broke up that none of the four would ever be as good on their own, as they were together.  But they've been proved wrong!  Especially so by Paul, because he's the only ex-Beatle to be back on the group with a group.

"I think the audiences are going for us now, not because I'm Paul McCartney, but because we are Wings,"  he says.  "I used to worry that they'd be wanting the Beatles, but not now.  I thought, if that's what they want, they can play the old records.  We're Wings and that's it!.  Okay, so we're not as famous as the Beatles were when they were strong, but so what?  It took the Beatles three hard years to start getting anywhere at all -- we've been going two years and we've done this much already.  I'm happy."

Paul certainly looks happy, and more confident than perhaps even he could have imagined two years ago.   No doubt one of the things that makes him glad is that he is working again, and for that we have to thank Linda.  She talked him out of the sadness and depression which followed the bitter fight with the other three.  Paul dismisses any talk of a Beatles' reunion -- the only way they would work together in the future, he says, is perhaps on each other's records.  and they actually all worked on Ringo's latest LP.

"But it's just daft, really silly, to talk about us all getting back together for anything more than that.  The Beatles happened years ago, and we've grown up in four different ways.   We're all into different things now.  We've grown away from each other musically, though we obviously have some links still.  I couldn't say that I miss them all madly and can't wait to get back together again and go touring, but it'd be daft.  And lies."

"I''m in a brand new band now, a good band, and we're recording and touring, and it's what I want.  I don't know what's going to happen with Wings, how big we might become, but at least give us a chance ... let's just see what happens."

And Paul knows that lots of his fans now don't remember the Beatles -- and really he's glad about that.

"Our daughter, Heather only barely knows who the Beatles were, but so what?"  he says.  "She loves the Osmonds.  And I think the Osmonds and David Cassidy are nice too.  I like them for what they are.  They're slick, very professional, and they just get on with their job.

"If music's good, it's good, and there's no reason o take it all apart and put all kind of deep, intellectual meanings into it.  I think it's wrong to analylse music like that, it just doesn't need it.  There are more important things in life to take seriously."

And what happens to Wings now?  Paul wants to do a tour of America and another of Europe, and about September they should have an LP out.

"Beyond that I don't know.  We just don't make plans that far ahead."  Paul admits.  "If  I said 'I want to be doing this and this in two years' time,'  I'd  be playing around with four other people's lives.  And I don't want to do that.  Usually I just plan the next week and if everything works out then I'm happy."

And Paul makes us all so happy too, that we can't really argue with that.

They're the Best Band in the Land

They’re the best band in the land

By Peter Erskine

Auditioning for that vital first job.  Razor creases in suit trousers, hair greased and pressed, and starched hanky inserted in top pocket by a mum who keeps telling you she’s every confidence in you.

It was a bit like that, I mean, although you’ve got to be natural and pretend it’s just like exchanging the normal pleasantries with your metropolitan rock n rollers.

“Go on,” they said.  “He’s okay.  Just treat him like anyone else you’d interview.”

But Paul McCartney?   As essential and instrumental as Farex and Marmite, that first pull on a Cadet and those quaking teenage bra-strap manipulations.  I mean, an incredibly important and nostalgic chuck in everyone’s background.  Warm and wonderful indeed.  How can you express it?

You shouldn’t, but you can’t help letting it colour your vision a little, so that when they man said, “Yes, you two can go in now” (having stood fidgeting listlessly backstage in the scholarly green-washed Newcastle City Hall corridor)…the first reaction is one of almost energy draining relief, followed by a combination scrabbling and ferreting through one’s metaphorical life-bouy; a series of typed questions, to wit.  Gosh, it is going great.

The atmosphere’s calm, relaxed and positive—Paul and Linda seem to exude those qualities these days – so that caught in the hazily pleasant air, one hardly realizes Paul’s adeptness at appearing loquacious and informative, yet retaining that seasoned ease of remaining entirely non-committal.  Even evasive.  Ten years of dealing with the Press has fostered that ability.

Even so, could you imagine Mick Jagger taking a little band out on the road, rumbling between the cities in a converted coach?   It’s certainly odd to see Paul so accessible.

But the old aura still pulls. Fans still shin up drain-pipes and hang cat-like from window sills, poking little notes in through ventilation ducts, and they still congregate, autograph books a flap, hours before the band are due to file in through the stage-door.

But now it’s for Wings, and they deserve it, because they’re good.  Possibly, the best live band we have, and that’s no hype – how could it be after the verbal pelting they’ve endured?

“I mean, “ says Linda, pressing against her old man back in the dressing room.  “I was pretty apprehensive at first.  I wasn’t good when we started and there were times when I really did sing flat.  I know it…”

“That Press thing hit her pretty hard you know,” interrupts Paul.  “Sometimes I had to stop her from crying before we went on and that why we started abroad – the first tour that is—and why we’ve concentrated on college and universities since…”

“How did you write Live and Let Die?” someone asks.

“Well, I sat down on the piano the next day and worked something out, then got in touch with George Martin, who produced it with us.   We rehearsed it as a band, recorded it and then left it up to him.”

Was it just like writing another song for Wings, though?

“No, it was just a little bit different because it was a James Bond film and it had to be big.  I didn’t have to keep to a schedule that was too tight, though.  I think, originally, they asked for two minutes, 50, and I think it turned out two minutes, 52.

“I mean, I think I’d do it again.  It was a good film, but I’m getting a bit choosy now, you know,” he says grinning, “Ah well, success has gone to my head, hasn’t it?  Flushed with success, I am. I’ll only do big films now…or very little ones.”

There’s a disparity between the album, though “Red Rose Speedway” and the live act.  I mean, the album’s okay.  It has its moments, but nothing approaching the impact of the band in person.

Of course, I hadn’t the guts to say so, preferring instead the lighter more clichéd phrasing of that hardly annual”  “What is your policy with regards to live and recorded work?”

“Well it should all be part of the same thing as far as we’re concerned,” returned a slightly side-stepping Mccartney.

I tried; is it just that you’ve been concentrating on pulling the band together first then?

“Well, no, it’s just that we’ve got an LP out.  It’s selling and we’ve just had two singles kind of hot on each others’ tails. As soon as we’ve finished this (tonight being the last night of the tour) we’ll be starting on a new album.  I don’t think one’s going to suffer because of the other – in fact it’ll be the other way round.  I think the live playing’s helping for when we start writing again.”

Will Denny Laine’s songs be on the next album, then?

“Yeah, I think so.  We haven’t got the songs together yet, but if he comes up with something good, he’ll get in…”

“You see ‘Red Rose Speedway’ was originally going to be a double album,”  explained Linda.  “And Denny wrote a song for that, and I wrote a song, but then we narrowed it down…”

And the interview veers off at a tangent again as someone asks how Paul feels about the recently televised TV special, which leads into a long and involved discussion relating to the need for a more musically-aware media, which we all know exists, but which helps keep things light and superficial and diverts attention from more probing issues, which, in any case, are blunted by a room full of people and three reporters going it at the same time.

Who knows whether it’s due to the lack of time, McCartney’s desire to avoid a more intense one-to-one situation, or a politeness on the part of the inquisitors?

“I think it worked for what it was, though,” continues McCartney, regarding the TV special.  “It was a kind of Chevrolet show, and you couldn’t go too far or they wouldn’t show it.  As far as we were concerted, it was a start.  We all got on telly and we all got some experience working with cameras and stuff.  But I think we could do better, to tell you the truth.”

And Paul says that he thinks there should be a separate BBC wavelength given over to music, 24 hours, piloted by such people as he refers to as “the music buffs”—Peel, Bob Harris, etc. and everyone, including Denny Laine, stopped by on his way back from the gents and a fresh bottle of brown, agrees that TV is on the decline universally.

“But, err, excuse me Paul, would you say that your attitude to lyrics has changed somewhat?”  A bit like breaking wind rather loudly in one of the quiet bits of the opera, that one.  A bit below the belt, what?

“No, my attitude hasn’t changed.  Some of my songs have turned out as if my attitude’s changed, but it hasn’t.  I’m just trying to write songs.  I never thought of anything other than that.”

Even so, as an outsider, one detects a moving away, lyrically, from the kind of intensity of say “Eleanor Rigby,” to lighter, more easy-going things like “Big Barn Bed.”

Of course, comparisons are unfair and apart from being odious, unnecessary, but this seems to reflect, the whole philosophy of Wings.  Play power.  Fun. Or as the soap opera Jap says, “Be happy in your Work.”

Having a good time, but doing it well.  I mean the whole Wings thing of spontaneity and a kind of unpredictability typified by their first real debut gig – a surprise appearance at London’s Hard Rock Café for a Release benefit.

“There’s no telling what we’ll do,” says McCartney breezily.  “We’re very free now, you know.  We don’t have an awful lot of pressures.  If we feel like it we’ll do a 56,000seater gig, but then we may just decide to nip off and do a country little church hall, if that’s a good idea on the night…”

“That’s great, because the whole things become much too set.  People get set ideas in their heads about who does what and where.  With us it’s much more crazy.  We’ll play any kind of gig.  We’re just a band.

“I just think that there’s an awful lot of people getting taken over by huge machines…so I like not to be on the side of the machines.  I like to keep more like the gypsies.”   And, as you know, gypsies must be continually on the move, as their PR man indicated, nudging and furtively pointing to his watch.  A roadie burst through the door and sound of the Brinsley’s second-to-last number welled in.

“I think they’d like to get ready,” he said, moving towards the door politely, ushering us out along the corridor, nearly colliding with a crusty old photographer cutting his way up from the front row like a Ronald Searle caricature, fingers-in-ears, making for the exit.

As Wings gets themselves together backstage and a man and wife performing poodle team take the stage, a familiar photographer sidles up and asks whether I know that these (gesturing with a sweep of an arm) are just about the finest, most restrained bouncers in the country.

“They’ve a great reputation,” he says proudly, going on to recount their admirable handling of the Bowie heavies at a recent concert.  And a surprisingly mild-looking bunch they are too.

By this time, large balloons are being tossed across the rows and the man and wife poodle team are running through their final encore—a complicated combined handstand and canine hurdle.

The lights – a combination of gas and electricity – dim, a mighty roar rises from the rows, the ice cream ladies make their way to the back.  And as the din escalates to a hollow thunder, as a washed-and-brushed Denny Seiwell makes his way to the kit, followed by Linda, crossing over stage right to the moog and electric piano, Denny Laine on guitar, Henry McCullough on lead, a pause, then insanity tears loose as McCartney fresh out of the “Keep on Truckin’” T-shirt and dancing shoes and into something silvery, walks over to Linda, plugs in and tunes up then leads the band, as sharp and clear as you like into “Sunny.”

Apart from the impact of the lights – casting an imaginative purple/green glow—the clarity of the sound is amazing.  The balance is perfect, the delivery dynamic, and there’s not even a hint of distortion.  Paul takes the vocals and Denny Laine plays electric/acoustic. 

The number is greeted by the staccato level of applause usually reserved for a final encore.  The first of many are on their feet, or balancing on the back of their seats.

“Big Barn Bed”—the opener on “Red Rose Speedway” follows and is equally tight and clean.  The vocal harmonies are even better than those on the album, and it’s at this point that you realize how good Denny Seiwell really is.

As a drummer, he is surly underrated.  Really.  His playing is so damn forceful and incisive.  He manages to combine an intrinsically-sensitive black style – that arrogant laid-back ease, say, of someone like Bernard Purdie, with all the edge and attack of the best white drummers – Aynsley Dunbar, for instance.

Linda played nice keyboards on “When the Night” also from the new album and Henry and Denny Laine duetted beautifully towards the end.

“Mercy bowcoup, muchas gracias common market,”  McCartney replied to the typhoon-like applause, as the band went into Linda’s “Seaside woman” with fine vocal duetting from the McCartneys along with an especially-slicing bass figure form Paul.

“Wild Life” was magnificent.  For me, the highlight.  McCartney sang like a bitch and the five-part harmonies on the chorus were incredibly powerful.  Stunning, in fact.

“C Moon” a stirring version of “Maybe I’m Amazed” and “My Love” followed, introduced by McCartney as “the most snoggable number of the evening,” and countered my McCullough who bellowed “Rip ‘em off!” then proceeded to play one of the finest solos of the night.  “Live and Die” greeted with redoubled enthusiasm was followed by the old Moody Blues’ “Go Now” with Denny Laine on organ and vocals.

A roadie presented Denny Seiwell with a birthday cake and the band slashed through “the Mess” and “Hi Hi Hi” with Henry playing bottleneck, encoring with a magnificently ball busting out of “Long Tall Sally” with the Brinsley, the only concession to anything touching on the past, for, as Paul had said earlier, when asked if he deliberately avoided doing old numbers:

“Yes,” he had said, “because we don’t want to turn into a second-rate Beatles and be compared to all the groups up and down the Costa Brava.  I mean we’ve come away from all that,” he had added “Although the others are more keen on the Beatles thing than anyone.  Old Denny Laine there, is a total Beatles freak.”

“In fact, one night onstage he suddenly comes out with “When I was young and so much younger than today…” and I thought “God, there’s me trying to get away from it…”

The Renaissance of Dirty Macca

The Renaissance of Dirty Macca

By Tony Tyler

The fall of Paul McCartney was the tale of a perfectly harmless Philistine slaughtered by a posse of self-righteous Samsons.  And I suspect it began with the court case that followed the dissolution of the Beatles.

Do you remember how the story went?  We were all presented with an appealing picture of three Beatles who wanted to go on being Beatles; honest, just wanted a new manager, that’s all.   In the opposite corner stood Dirty Macca 15 stone of brutal chubbiness, dragging Us and Them through the courts, and all for a few scraps of paper.  And he made us all wake up, and he had the cheek to win.  What a downer.

Then, with McCartney firmly established as the villain of the piece, the coast was clear for Lennon to bury himself in New York horse radical chic surrounded by herberts who would drag out a mike if Johnny-baby so much as passed wind.   Lennon’s subsequent disintegration as an artist of credibility was passed off as the doing of Ole Fatsuff back there on ‘is bleedin’ Scottish farm, messin’ round with that Eastman chick an’ them bleedin’ sheep.

The worst thing about it was that Lennon obviously believed this story:  he had to, for his own self-respect.  So, because Lennon had credibility in those days, we were treated to what was possibly the masochistic breast-beat of all time, the celebrated John Lennon “Rolling Stone” interview.  In this the wretched Lennon took every opportunity to slam more nails into McCartney’s coffin.  Of course, he was knocking them into his own as well.   But it wasn’t so apparent at the time.  And so it came to pass that James Paul McCartney began his long slide from public favour.  I believe the real reason for his banishment to the salt mines was the fact that he was generally blamed by the public for the break-up of the Beatles.  Yet it was fairly obvious then—and even more obvious now, with hindsight—that the Moptops were four very dead Mersey Goldfish even as far back as “Let it Be.”

James Paul’s real mistake was in underestimating how much the very existence of the Beatles, even on a mere emotional level, was considered a necessary adjunct to a full and fruitful lifestyle.

Neither, of course, did he help himself by bringing out two fairly terrible albums, “McCartney” and “Ram.”  Yet the public still after his blood, ignored Lennon’s own personal albums and laced into McCartney – failing to realize that the latter’s own solo efforts might have meant every bit as much to him as did Primal Shouts Parts One and Two to Lennon.

Double standards?   Certainly – and ask yourself this:  who, in five years’ time, is gonna be more embarrassed by his post Beatles product?

By this time the odds were beginning to stack against McCartney.  There was nothing he could do right.

Even the few mitigating factors didn’t run in his favour.

By this time the wheel of pop chic had spun a drunken full circle and the powdered rhinestoned, glittering New Barbarians had little time for McCartney’s gentle tunesmithery.  Coke n blood were what sold and the only interest in Eleanor Rigby would be a lascivious enquiry about the lady.

My own stake in this affair is that I grew up in the same Liverpool as the Beatles, even played in a band myself once – so you’ll understand when I say that the existence of the Beatles meant as much to me as to anybody.

I’ve seen McCartney, leather-clad playing bass behind Little Richard at the Tower Ballroom; I’ve seen them in Hamburg, sweating their asses off for a heavy character called Horst Fascher; I’ve seen them pissed on crates in the Grossbier shop and getting laid in the upstairs bunk across the street from the Star.

I saw their first return to the Litherland Town Hall, when Pete Best got more cheers than anybody.  I tell ya, I’ve got Beatleography engraved on my heart.

This s why I was as sadden as anybody else by the split and subsequent events and I haven’t really got off on McCartney’s music since that time I winced at the “James Paul McCartney” TV special, just like everybody else seemed to, but in that same show I also saw enough to convince me that, under the layer of defensiveness, the rocker was still in there, waiting for a friendly word before he came out and blew our heads off again.

It was with this mixed attitude that I turned up at Birmingham Odeon last Friday night to see the Wings tour.  My friends, as a veteran of endless, pilgrimages to the Rainbow for Bowie, or Roxy, or some such tinseled trivia I was instantly taken by absence of the sort of amateur poovery that one comes up against these days.  There was not a rhinestone, not a jeweled droplet, not a square inch of satin in place.

In fact, and this is going to sound boring, they were just nice, ordinary people.  They were courteous, kept themselves firmly seated, and betrayed little emotion at the thought of actually seeing a Beatle.  They were a sincere-looking audience.

Suddenly there’s an invite to us to greet the Fabulous Paul McCartney and Wings; and the greeting from the previously demure audience is so loud it shakes the roof.

Linda McCartney is dressed (I’m including a fashion note here because  I know some of you may be interested in such matters) in a handsome black suit cut to resemble Scottish full dress with jacket, cravat and knee-length skirt.

She looks fine, not a trace of the Harridan I’d half expected. Denny Seiwell looks cool behind his kit, Denny Laine looks smashed behind his jumbo and Henry McCullough --- Henry looks pissed, so be frank, but ask everyone from Joe Cocker down, and they’ll tell you that Henry plays great when he’s pissed.

He is wearing a black jacket, is Henry, with “a Pearly Kid” embroidered on the back.  And he plays fine, just fine.

Ah, but so do they all.  It’s a frequently-forgotten fact, but McCartney is one hell of a bassist, all bounce and balls.  He looks pretty slick himself, in his silk shirt and left hand Rickenbacker.  Denny Laine keeps the second- lead lines together well, and every now and again he takes over bass or piano.  Denny Seiwell hunches his shoulders and digs in; Linda plays O.K., too, as far as I can tell (certainly I hear no bum notes) and the whole thing gets quite nicely.

Nobody hollers for a Beatle tune, which must be gratifying, and there’s plenty of shouted requests for Wings’ music.  After about four number the people have already started to twitch and it’s apparent they’re only waiting for that one rocker to let go…beats me why McCartney doesn’t give ‘em what they want.   But he’s got his own plans and I have to admit they make sense.

Then he’s into rock and now they’re beginning to stampede and it’s on the seat-back, feller, if you wanna see what’s going down.  Denny does “Go now” Paul and Henry do a knees-up and suddenly it’s almost over and time for what I came all this way for “Long Tall Sally.”

You see I have this thing about McCartney singing “Long Tall Sally.”  I’ve never heard anyone sing it better and it’s my own personal acid test to see if his goolies are still where they were.  I’m happy to report that they are in place, and swinging better than ever.  McCartney has absolutely no need to justify his rocker credentials; he screams like a bitch and swings twice as hard.  This crowd goes potty.

The gig is now over, expect for five little girls who fight for a towel, swinging around in a five-pointed star of agro.  Epithets fly, I shudder, and make my way backstage where…

The Publicists is flapping like a shirttail in the breeze, nervously marshalling us into some kind of order before entering the Presence.  An American journalist is putting McCartney (but not in the publicist’s hearing, or he wouldn’t get in, no way) and everybody seems to be American.

McCartney’s changed clothes.  His kids are running around and both he and lady are being cool with them, giving friendly prods and pushes and generally letting them get on with it.

The American thrusts a mike right under McCartney’s nose, but the Fab One, not the slightest disconcerted, answers questions, pantomimes situations.

Did he enjoy making “Live and Let Die?”  Certainly, he likes to be given good work to do.  What’s the movie like? OK, says Paul.  Linda thinks Roger Moore’s a little smooth, but that’s cool.

Would you believe the American then asks McCartney the “difference between England and America?”  One longs for “A Hard Day’s Night” comeback, but McCartney’s not into putting others down, not even when they beg for it.

McCartney is asked about the TV film, “I thought some of it was OK, you know, but I’d do it completely different now.  Like, we thought the live concert didn’t really happen for us, you know, didn’t really geddoff onnit.”

“When are you coming to America?” ask the West Coaster.  McCartney reveals that visa problems are, bar accidents, just about sewn up.

They have this friend, y’ see, in New York, who’s a friend of Senator Jacob Javits ( a liberal politician) and…

“But like it’s different for us, ‘cos we gotta be careful.  There’s others (he names names) who can do a little dropsy if they wanna (he makes the immortal backhanded gesture), but we’ve gotta be careful.”

Like John?  “John’s problem is getting’ out, not in.”

We get on to the gig.  I tell him I thought he got a great reception.  “It’s always a great reception these days,” says Linda.  McCartney is glowing, and it is obvious that he’s getting thrilled all over again, that he’s really satisfied he can still do it.  And the Beatles?   He still sees a couple of the others now and again --- especially Ringo, who lives in London.  But he hasn’t seen John in a while.  “People have gotta remember that it’s over.  It really is.  What we did was…what we did in THAT band.  Now I’m in another band, playin’ different music.  It’s over.”

Is he satisfied that his own feelings about a Certain New York Businessman are now seen to be shared by the other Beatles?  “Well, yes, I am.  I’m not smug, and I don’t wanna say ‘I told you so.’  But I knew I was right then an’ it’s been proved. I’m just glad it’s all over and we can get down to playing again.”

I have to admit I thought Paul McCartney was all right.  He was smooth, not glib, and professional like a rock star should be.  He looked healthy and suntanned and, this is also going to be boring, happy.  He seemed very close to Linda; not in a sloppy way, just like I am with my lady, maybe like you with yours.  He didn’t put anybody down. He was cool.  You could see he felt that things are finally going his way.

I also have to admit I’m glad about that.  If things are going McCartney’s way, then more people are going to get something out of the remnants of the Beatles than otherwise might have been.  I’m still not completely stuck on his music though you’ll find that if you give it more than one listen, you might just like what you hear.

In retrospect I feel Jame Paul has had something of a raw deal – thought in the beginning he brought it on himself by underestimation of public morale vis-a-is Beatles.  Because of that he’s not really been given a chance since to show what he could do and let’s own up how serious do YOU take Wings as a rock force?  But “Wild Life” was a progression from “Ram” and “Red Rose Speedway” is another upwards step.  Given a little encouragement McCartney can do it again.

Somebody once said “I do not agree with what you say, but I will defend your right to say it.”  Well, that almost sums up my attitude.  I don’t’ get off on everything McCartney is doing but his right to do what he wants is incontrovertible.

And when he gets steaming into those rocker vocals, there’s nobody on this side of Little Richard’s false eyelashes who can hold a candle to him.  Given time and, as I say, a little encouragement, and he’ll yet frighten the ass off of the mincing queens who currently hold count.

Look:  just wait and see.  OK?

Ringo sells Brookfield

This article came from a Dutch magazine.   I translated it the best that I could.    It is a funny article because you think it is going to be about Ringo selling his home, but it seems more like a real estate advertisement!

Ringo Starr from landowner to city citizen

Ringo Starr is currently the least controversial but, by contrast, the most popular of the four Beatles. This is mainly thanks to his activities in the field of film and, in particular, his role in alongside Peter Sellers in the film "The Magic Christian".  These film activities, however, are also the reason why Ringo lives in the fantastic estate that he had just bought from Peter Sellers and will sell again. 

Brookfield, as the estate is called, is so far from London that Ringo can no longer combine the  vast task of a landowner with his rapidly expanding work as an actor. And since these latter activities are the most important for him at the moment, Brookfield has to be sold. But Ringo is at heart.

Understandably, because this estate is a real gem. The country house dates back to the 16th century, but has been modernized and expanded. It has three large salons, four bedrooms with attached bathroom, an extremely modern kitchen and central heating in every room. In addition, there is a home cinema, a sauna, a garage that seats five cars and a stable for six horses. On the estate, which is bordered by the Wey River, is a true paradise for anglers, we find a pond, enchanting beautiful gardens and vineyards and an extensive forest.

All in all, you will be able to imagine that Ringo does not like leaving this fantastic estate, and once he has to sell it, he deserves a great deal  of money for  it.   Almost 100,000 must bring it!  For Ringo, the rustic existence of a landowner  must be exchanged for the hottest life in the London city.  He once again wandered in and across the beautiful Brookfield. Our photographer followed him and while Ringo explained his goodbye to the countryside and his estate 

Original caption:   The billiard room, in which Ringo  spends a lot of relaxing hours, looks out on the forest and part of the pond.

original caption:   Ringo arrives in his Mercedes 600 for the last inspection of his estate

Original caption:   With clothes and already in the sauna. You have to make sense ...

Original caption:  A lawnmower is not luxury with all those gardens and lawns

John Lennon going Straight

This has to be one of the biggest pieces of rubbish I have read in a long time.   Whoever wrote this piece did not do her research.   John sued the other Beatles because he thought he was the one with the talent?   John and Yoko's marriage ended?    A ton of other crazy things in here. 


So why am I posting it?   First of all, I think historically it is interesting to see what was being written and why fans believed certain rumors.   I also think the story about the Troubadour club is an interesting perceptive because it wasn't John's side of the story, but just a basic telling from an observer type perceptive. 

John Lennon Going Straight

By Jennie Franklin

Screenland Magazine  1974

You know john Lennon.  The ex-Beatle?  Ringo Starr was the devilish little imp; Paul McCartney was the “cute” one; George Harrison, the mystic, Lennon?  Lennon was the troublemaker, the home-wrecker, dope-addict, drunk, child-and-wife deserter, outspoken atheist (remember, “The Beatles are more popular than Jesus Christ?), rebel and crank.   According to some, he was the only certifiable genius in the group.  To others he was just a certifiable madman.

Things didn’t change after the break-up of the most popular and influential rock group, either.  Each of the four went their separate ways.  Ringo recorded a few albums – nothing much artistically, but they were fun and they made him an awful lot of money.

Paul McCartney married Linda Eastman and moved to a farm in Scotland.  They lived there in love and comfort, returning to London only to make recordings or engage in court battles with John Lennon- but that comes a bit later in the story.

George Harrison traveled to India to study with the masters of both the sitar and religion.  He devoted a great deal of his time to charitable causes and made recordings where were well received by the critics, if not so well received by the record-buying public as those of Ringo and Paul.

John Lennon kept on getting into trouble and offending as many people as he could.  He had already angered most of his public by deserting his wife and children to take up with Japanese avant-garde artist Yoko Ono.  They recorded one album together, and posed nude for the cover.  Naturally, it was banned in the United States.  People began muttering that the man would never grow up.

Lennon then instituted a suit again the other three ex-Beatles, claiming that he had been the real talent of the group and that the group’s manager, Allan Klein, had been hired over his objections.  He wanted the partnership dissolved forever, with income adjustments made to compensate him for his work.  People said that he—and his new wife Yoko Ono – were responsible for the groups break-up in the first place.  He was resented for the implication that the other three Beatles had been only backup men for his skill and talent.  People continued to mutter that Lennon would never grow up, and the mutters were getting louder.

So it went.  While the other three—Paul, George and Ringo- went on about their business of making music, living peacefully and spending time with their friends and families, John Lennon issued inflammatory statements, made revolutionary recordings about Marxism and the workers’ rebellion. He was arrested for possession of drugs, and engaged in a very messy court battle with Yoko’s first husband to get custody of her child.  The mutterings continued to grow. 

original caption:   John's 22 foot long Mercedes, complete with velour seats, refrigerator, phone, TV, radio, record player, tape recorder, push-button windows, partitions and sun roof is a symbol of the affluence which helped lead John astray

But the incidents of last July, at the Troubadour café in Hollywood, seemed to be the capper.  Lennon, accompanied by singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson and his secretary, lovely oriental May Pang (he had separated from Yoko by this time) was attending the opening of the Smothers Brothers’ newest comeback attempt.  The party was seated at a table next to the stage, as befitted two recording industry giants, and settled in to enjoy the show.  Unfortunately for the rest of the distinguished audience (including Paul Newman, Flip Wilson, Helen Reddy, Lily Tomliln, Peter Lawford, Judy Carne, Leonard Nimoy, Cliff Robertson and Dina Merrill).  Lennon’s idea of the proper way to enjoy a show was to insult the waitresses and guests, and heckle the performers.

The Smothers Brothers, of course, are old coffee house veterans.  They are not easily heckled, and they also had a pretty good idea of who was doing the heckling.  They answered back light-heartedly, and it looked as if the trouble might be avoided.  But Lennon was not going to be satisfied by a few comments and then silence.  He kept up the heckling.

“It was like he thought he and the Smothers were the only people there,” said Doug Weston, the Troubadour’s manage.  “And it wasn’t even very good heckling.”

After Peter Lawford complained to Weston about the performance being put on by Lennon, the restaurant manager accompanied by the Smothers Brothers’ manager, Kenny Fritz told Lennon and Nilsson that if they didn’t shut up, they would have to leave.  Lennon punched Fritz in the jaw, and received three back.  A drink was thrown, which hit an innocent observer in the mouth, and before any further damage could take place Lennon was deposited on Santa Monica Boulevard by three of the club’s bouncers.   He promptly slugged a woman photographer – at least according to her – and chased another down an alley.  Finally, Harry Nilsson managed to get the freewheeling songster into a car, and away they went.

The next day flowers and apologies went out from a suddenly contrite John Lennon to the Troubadour and the Smothers; but it was a bit too late.  The L.A. police were investigating a number of assault charges against Lennon, and the U.S. Immigration Department , already interested in Lennon (at the time of the ruckus he was fighting their ruling that he had to leave the U.S. because he was a convicted drug-user) expressed a great deal of concern in the case.  He made the chances of his being allowed to remain in the country a good deal slimmer by his escapade.

All of that has been straightened out by now, of course.  And Lennon is back in the U.S.A. again, recording and – wonder of wonders – trying to change his image.

He seems a bit bewildered by all the publicity the incident received, although he certainly should be used to the idea by now that his every move is watched and reported on in great detail.

‘What’s funny about that whole thing, “ he said referring to the spate of publicity and the public outcry after the Troubadour incident, “is that all these old showbiz writers are always writing about the good old days when Errol Flynn or somebody used to punch out the press or something.

“They talk about the days when there were real stars and real men who used to be on a yacht with twenty broads and get drunk…and they’d say ow great those days were.

“But then a couple of rockers get rocky one night and all hell breaks loose.  It’s all over the papers.  We even had some people saying the government was right.  That they ought to kick us out of the country.  It’s crazy.”

Many might say, “Look who’s calling the kettle back” when they hear Lennon calling the press crazy.  But he does seem determined to change the notions of him that people have acquired over the years (with his own help unfortunately) .  He has settled his differences with the U.S. government, and has even expressed a desire to live here permanently.  He has ended his marriage to Yoko in an unexpected dignified and civilized manner, and has begun to work seriously on his music again – perhaps more seriously than he has for years.

In fact, he blames the incident at the Troubadour on his desire to work at the time – and the fact that his producer, Phil Spector, had had a serious automobile accident.

Spector’s hospitalization stopped all work on the new Lennon album, and John suddenly found himself with al ot of time on his hands.   He was frustrated in his desire to work and bored by all the inactivity.  To all appearances, he has settled into a much more sedate way of life now that he can get on with his business.

“Now, I’m clearheaded and I’m not drinking,” he says.  “It’s all or nothing with me.  ‘Cause I don’t even like it, actually, I usually drink to escape something – just like everybody.  Everything seemed to be piling up…

“Maybe the pressure is gone now.  That may be the difference.  But then everything was up in the air and must have been affecting me, although you don’t know it at the time.

“You think you’re still functioning.  You don’t’ realize what is happening to you.”

But one thing is absolutely sure.  John Lennon has no intention of blowing it again.  He is settling down, and settling in.  He wants to stay in the U.S. for a good long while.  Maybe the mutters can stop wondering when he will grow up –finally.  He seems to want to be mature, and that is a step in the right direction.

I want,” he says almost humbly, “to show people that I can behave myself.”

Show us John.  We’ve been waiting a long time.