Rock and Roll Music

Over the course of their numerous appearances on BBC Radio, the Beatles paid tribute to many of their rock and roll heroes, and foremost among them was the great Chuck Berry.  Arguably, nobody was more responsible for the transition from rhythm and blues to rock and roll than Berry, as he managed to appeal to both black and white teenagers.  The Beatles played nine of his compositions on various radio programs, some of them multiple times, with each song appearing at least once on the collections Live at the BBC and On Air - Live at the BBC Volume 2.

In 1957, Berry wrote Rock and Roll Music, a song celebrating the genre that he had helped to create.  Over in Liverpool, John Lennon's band the Quarrymen, usually quick to jump on any new song from America, somehow waited until 1959 before they added this tune to their repertoire, first playing it at Mona Best's Casbah Coffee Club (pictured above), long before they found themselves in need of a drummer and asked her son Pete to join the group.  Once established, the song remained in their setlist for the next few years as they became the Beatles and gradually worked their way up to a record deal with the Parlophone label.

As their fame grew larger, their setlist grew shorter, and the song all but disappeared from their act - until they were forced to resort to some of their old favorites during sessions for their fourth album Beatles for Sale.  On October 18th, 1964, that album was only half-finished, and the pressure was on to record as many titles as possible.  After spending a good portion of the day working on some of their new compositions, the band cranked out three oldies in just a few quick takes.

Rock and Roll Music required only one take, played by the boys and their producer George Martin on piano.  They drive through the song in high gear, with the addition of the piano plus the echo on John's vocal creating a very full sound.  Still, Martin did not feel that it was strong enough to close out the album. That honor went to George's cover of the Carl Perkins number Everybody's Trying to Be My Baby.  Instead, this song wound up in the middle of side one, occupying the same position in the running order on the Capitol album Beatles '65.

The song then returned to their stage act and remained there for the rest of their performing days.  It was part of the setlist for Another Beatles Christmas Show performed in London during the 1964-65 holiday season.  I have in my possession a bootleg tape of a June 1965 concert in Paris, which contains an enthusiastic performance of the song.  It opened their shows during the international and North American tours in 1966, including their final official concert at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.

In the UK, the song appeared on the EP Beatles for Sale in 1965.  Of course, it was the title track of the 1976 compilation Rock and Roll Music.  Live at the BBC includes what is surprisingly their one and only recording of the song on radio, to promote the release of Beatles for Sale on the program Saturday Club.  And a shockingly lackluster performance of the song appears on Anthology 2 from a 1966 concert at Budokan in Japan.

Revolution

When Paul and George stated their belief that Revolution 1 was not single material, mainly falling back on the argument that it was too slow, they probably thought that the matter was settled.  But Lennon treated their rejection as if a gauntlet had been thrown down at his feet.  Determined that the song was strong enough to be the A-side of the group's next single, he took up the gauntlet, slightly rearranged his composition - mainly by giving it a faster (but not too fast) tempo - and demanded a remake.

On July 9th, 1968, the Beatles returned to the track, although they only recorded a series of rehearsals on this date.  Actual takes commenced on the following day, wiping out most of these rehearsals, but a few minutes remain at the end of the tape.  The 50th anniversary deluxe edition of the "White Album" fades up on one of these rehearsals, revealing clean, undistorted guitars, and some vocal harmonies from Paul, as John ran the band through his new arrangement.  The song sounds as bright and upbeat as it did on the demo recorded at George's house in May.

But once the official recordings commenced on July 10th, John did not want a clean sound for the guitars - he wanted distortion, as much as possible.  And, displaying absolutely no patience, he wanted to hear it immediately.  When this did not happen, the unfortunate recipient of his ire was engineer Geoff Emerick, who had been performing wonders for the band's sound since the sessions for the album Revolver in 1966.  John berated him daily as work progressed on the song, no doubt being a major cause for Emerick quitting the sessions a week later.

It required ten takes to arrive at the master on July 10th.  Only John and George's guitars and Ringo's drums are heard on this backing track.  Handclaps and an additional drum track from Ringo were overdubbed before John recorded his lead vocal, then double-tracked it, adding his scream at the top of the song.  A rare high profile guest star was added to the track on July 11th in the person of session keyboard player Nicky Hopkins.  His electric piano part can be heard only during the instrumental break and at the end of the song.  Later that same day, Paul overdubbed his bass guitar line.

John wanted to overdub yet another guitar onto the track on July 13th, and his nasty treatment of Emerick continued on this day, though the resourceful engineer finally did figure out how to get the distortion level to John's satisfaction.  In George's opinion there was too much distortion, but he and Paul could no longer deny that the song deserved to be the A-side of the group's next single.  John's victory was short-lived, however, as Paul soon brought in a new composition called Hey Jude, a song so good that John graciously relegated his song to the B-side.

Released in August of 1968, this could easily have been a double A-sided single.  As it turned out, Revolution still got enough airplay to reach number twelve on the Billboard chart, thanks in part to Hey Jude being their longest-reigning number one in the US during the group's career.  The song was finally mixed for stereo in late 1969 for inclusion on the Capitol compilation album Hey Jude, released in February of 1970.

As one of the group's hardest rockers, it is a hard song to follow, and nearly impossible to top.  Thus, it has always sat at the end of album side on vinyl.  It is the last song on side one of the aforesaid Hey Jude album.  It ends side two of the Blue Album from 1973.  It ends side three on Rock and Roll Music.  And it is the final song on side one of Past Masters Volume Two.    

Days after its initial release, promotional films were made for both sides of the single.  The Beatles spent September 4th, 1968, at Twickenham Film Studios with Michael Lindsey-Hogg, who had directed the films and videos for Paperback Writer and Rain in 1966.  The set-up for Revolution showed the group in their familiar performance positions from their old concert days, but looking very different only a few years later.  They mimed playing their instruments over the backing track from the record, but sang live.  Paul gives the opening scream, and he and George add the "shoo-be-doo-wop" backing vocals from Revolution 1, making this a truly unique moment.  Nicky Hopkins' electric piano work can be heard, even though he was not present for the shoot.  This film was shown in black and white on Top of the Pops in the UK and in color on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in the US.

Revolution 9

Yoko Ono had suddenly become a permanent fixture by John Lennon's side.  On May 30th, 1968, the very first day of sessions for the "White Album," John had brought her into the control room, introduced her to those present, and that was that.  During the numerous takes for Revolution 1 recorded on this day, she had begun playing a tape recorder close by John's microphone, much to the surprise of producer George Martin and engineer Geoff Emerick.  Even more surprising was the fact that John encouraged this, so that random noises and fragments of spoken words were eventually captured on the rambling 10-minute master take.

As stated in my previous post, Lennon intended to have this song be the A-side of the group's next single, but its unwieldy length, plus the chaotic nature of the final six minutes after the main body of the song, made it an unlikely candidate for airplay on AM radio.  Lennon finally realized this after more work had been done on the track on May 31st and June 4th, and he duly ordered a separation of the two sections, seeing an opportunity to get a very different piece onto a Beatles album, something akin to the experimental recordings he and Yoko had recently made after their first night together.

On June 6th, John and Yoko began assembling various tapes of music and other sounds from the vast collection in the EMI complex.  George once related that he and Ringo assisted in this search, though Ringo was busy in studio two on this date recording his composition Don't Pass Me By with Paul.  Some of the sound effects compiled on this date were actually part of another project.  Actor Victor Spinetti, who had co-starred in A Hard Day's Night, Help!, and Magical Mystery Tour, was directing a stage version of Lennon's book In His Own Write for the National Theatre, and John was assisting in the sound design of that production.

George and Ringo were out of the country as the search for sound effects continued on June 10th and 11th, with Martin's assistant Chris Thomas now helping John and Yoko to create tape loops.  (On the second of these dates, Paul was in studio two with Francie Schwartz by his side - if John could bring his new girlfriend to the sessions, why not? - recording Blackbird.)  John now had almost all of the components he wanted to create his sound collage.  What he required was the organization to somehow put it all together.  It would be a massive undertaking.

Paul was out of the country on June 20th, allowing John to essentially commandeer all of Abbey Road Studios.  All three studios and every tape machine in the building was at his disposal, not to mention as many staff members as necessary.  The only other Beatle who was present on this day was George.  He accompanied John into one of the studios where they made one final recording of random phrases that could be used throughout the piece, while Yoko added a high-pitched hum for good measure.

Engineers throughout the facility stood by into the wee hours of the morning holding pencils that kept tape loops running continually into tape machines, as John sat at a mixing console with Geoff Emerick at his side.  Using the final six minutes of Revolution 1 as a basis, John played the faders with Emerick's assistance, bringing up and down the sounds that he wanted until he had a track that extended to nine minutes in length.  As the stereo mix of the piece was made over the next few days, he continued this practice, playing with the faders and moving the sounds from speaker to speaker.  An edit was also made, bringing the total time of the track down to 8:15.

During the 24-hour sequencing session on October 16th and 17th, Paul fought unsuccessfully to keep the sound collage off of the album, though it did wind up being essentially buried as the penultimate track.  Many people have a low tolerance or an outright hatred for Revolution 9, either skipping over it or simply omitting side four of the double album altogether, but I have always found listening to it to be a fascinating experience.  There is no question that Lennon's innate musical abilities were guiding his choices as he made them in real time.  

While he went on to make three experimental albums with Yoko, John only made one other attempt at such a piece with the Beatles.  What's the New Mary Jane was recorded later in the summer of '68 with the assistance of George, Yoko and the ever-faithful Mal Evans.  Once its three nonsensical verses have been sung, its loose structure falls apart completely over several painful minutes, lacking any of the musical sensibility behind Revolution 9.  Thankfully, Paul did succeed in preventing this track from making the cut for the "White Album."  If you absolutely must give it a listen, it is available on Anthology 3. 

Revolution 1

Manager Brian Epstein had always tried to keep the Beatles from making any statements that were controversial or political in nature, though he was not entirely successful at enforcing this policy.  After his untimely death in August of 1967, it was up to the members of the group to decide whether or not they wished to maintain this policy.  John Lennon, in particular, had been wanting to make his views on the Vietnam War, among other issues, known for some time.  He had been humiliated in 1966 when he was forced to apologize to the American press for his "we're bigger than Jesus" remarks, and he had no intention of ever backing down again.

By early 1968, there was political unrest around the globe.  This weighed on Lennon's mind, even as he was isolated from most news at the Maharishi's compound in Rishikesh, India.  He began to write a song about revolution tempered by the Transcendental Meditation belief that change comes from within oneself, and that everything is "gonna be alright."

When the group gathered at George Harrison's house in May to make demos of the songs they intended for their next album , Lennon played acoustic guitar and sang this composition in an uptempo style, with the other Beatles clapping and even singing along in the chorus.  Just two verses were written at this time, so the first verse is repeated after a third verse of wordless gibberish.

Only a few days later, on May 30th, 1968, sessions began for what would become a sprawling double album, but Lennon was determined that Revolution would instead be the group's next single.  (The third verse may have been written in the studio on this date.)  Eighteen takes were recorded before he was satisfied with a new arrangement that was slower and more laid back than the demo recorded days earlier, though the final take lasted over ten minutes and devolved into chaos.  These takes featured John on acoustic guitar, Paul on piano and Ringo on drums. 

On the following day, May 31st, John recorded his lead vocal, continuing well into the chaotic part of the track with moans and screams of "alright."  He then double-tracked his lead vocal, but only in the main body of the song.  Paul added his bass guitar part, and Paul and George (and John?) recorded the "shoo-be-doo-wop" backing vocals. 

Returning to the song on June 4th, John decided to re-record his lead vocal, but he wanted to sound as relaxed as possible, so he chose to lie down on the floor (as pictured above) with a microphone suspended over him.   (His notebook from India, which contains the first two verses, also has the note "Martha - Diana - light voice" at the top of the page.  The references are most likely Martha Reeves and Diana Ross.)  He double-tracked this vocal, Ringo added some drums, Paul overdubbed an organ part, and John played a tone pedal guitar part.  Tape loops were created of all four Beatles singing a very high "Aaah," a guitar playing a high-pitched A repeatedly, and an overdub of Paul, George and Francie Schwartz (Paul's girlfriend at the time) singing "mama dada mama dada" over and over was made for the end of the song.

Around this time, it was decided that this ten-minute Revolution was not fit for a single, thus Lennon lopped off the final six minutes to form the basis of the sound collage Revolution 9, which was already taking shape in his mind.  He was still determined that the first four minutes of the song would be the group's next single, however, so he asked producer George Martin to write a brass arrangement to augment that portion of the song.  The session musicians, two trumpets and four trombones, were not brought in until June 21st to record the arrangement.  The only other Beatle who was present on this day besides John was George, who finally added his lead guitar part to the track, completing the overdubs.

The other Beatles, particularly Paul and George, voted against the song being a single.  Even though the lyrics are largely anti-revolution, the lingering effects of Epstein's non-political policy may have been on their minds.  In addition, they fell back on the argument that the recording was too slow.  This only fueled Lennon to ultimately insist on a remake.  He did not want to abandon this version, either, so he renamed it Revolution 1 and made sure it was included as the opening track on side four of the "White Album."  Though that album came out three months after the song's appearance as the B-side to Hey Jude, I'm sure most of us fans were unaware that this slower version had been recorded first.

The deluxe 50th-anniversary edition of the "White Album" contains the upbeat demo of the song, as well as the 10-minute take eighteen.  Even a die-hard fan like myself can find listening to this take to be a trying experience, though it is interesting to note the bits that bubble to the surface during Revolution 9 and discover some fascinating bits that remained buried, such as Paul momentarily slipping into a verse of Love Me Do!