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4.06 AVERAGE
4.06 AVERAGE
Almost every sentence is worth reading, thanks to a charm that conceals how remarkably information-dense this book is.
Reinvigorated my love of the band.
Reinvigorated my love of the band.
My favorite Beatle book I've ever read (and I've read probably 15-20), because it is more about us - the insane fans - than it is about them. Full of great anecdotes and arguments, I couldn't put it down.
I love the Beatles so this was a no-brainer for me, but what a good love letter to them from Sheffield. My own Beatles memories are so caught up in being essentially raised on them: I remember jumping on my twin beds, from one to the other, caught up in my own Beatlemania at five years old, listening to "I Saw Her Standing There." When I was a little older, my Uncle Mark dared me to go play any song from Rubber Soul at top volume on my grandparent's stereo in their staid, upscale apartment complex; he said he would give me the album if I did it, so of course I did - easiest bet I ever took. Rubber Soul is still easily my favorite album. Even then, I knew it was best (safest) to love Paul the most, but I really loved John.
Sheffield appeals to all Beatles fans, and accurately describes the love the music brings. I loved the connections to other music of the 60s, and even modern music. The fans, the feelings, the mania will always endure!
As long as I can remember, I’ve loved the Beatles.
I’m not exaggerating. In fact, I’ve loved the Beatles since before I have memories.
One of my first memories of identifying a record dates to when I was 5 or 6, circa 1970-71, when I heard “I Should Have Known Better” and “I’ll Get You” and knew they were by the Fab Four. (I did think the former’s title was “I Never Knew What a Kiss Could Be,” however. I had a lot to learn.) By that time, I had inherited my aunt’s singles collection, which included a number of Beatles 45s with the yellow-and-orange Capitol swirl. I played them constantly.
Even before owning the singles, I’d probably been hearing them for years. I watched the Beatles cartoon series in reruns (favorite songs: “Anna” and “And Your Bird Can Sing”). My aunt was a full-blown fan and visited my family in the summers – including 1966, when she saw the Beatles at Shea Stadium. And given that I was born in 1965, I suspect I heard the Beatles in the womb, because my mother – though preferring Eddie Fisher and Connie Francis to those long-haired British kids – liked to listen to the radio, and the radio would have been full of Beatles.
My love of the group has never really diminished. In high school I wore a T-shirt with “Beatle Maniac” on the back; in college, though my tastes branched out in many directions, I always came back to “Revolver,” or the White Album, or “Abbey Road”; and to this day, after decades of Beatle immersion, I continue to add to my Beatle knowledge, going from Nicholas Schaffner’s “The Beatles Forever” to Philip Norman’s “Shout” to Bob Spitz’s “The Beatles” to the first volume of Mark Lewisohn’s biography, while consuming other memoirs, magazine articles and comment boards.
I also know I’m not alone in my … obsession. So I was curious to see what Rob Sheffield – who has written some terrific Beatles-related articles for Rolling Stone – had to say about the Beatles’ hold on popular culture, the topic of his book “Dreaming the Beatles.”
Surprisingly, I think he missed the point.
Now, “Dreaming the Beatles” is engaging and interesting. Sheffield is too good a writer, and too knowledgeable a fan, to have produced a bad Beatles book. But what’s missing from “Dreaming the Beatles” (especially given its title) is something of the mysterious and mystical.
Before you roll your eyes again, hear me out.
In recent years, I’ve started thinking of the Beatles as something approaching a miracle. I know skeptics will scoff – every “miracle” can be read as the product of luck, timing and coincidence – but, still, what are the chances that four boys far removed from the cultural hub of their country find each other to form a good band, one of the best ever? What are the chances that they’re not only talented musicians but incredible songwriters? That they complement one another so well? That they meet both a manager and producer who underscore but don’t undermine their strengths? That they not only ride a rocket ship to fame – that’s happened countless times – but prove so adept at their art that they reshape not only popular music but popular culture as well? That their story (looked at from years later, of course) has an amazing arc that has them breaking up at the height of their powers, so we never have to deal with the usual – and inevitable – decline?
What are the chances that the corpus should be so free of chaff? The Beatles produced just over 200 songs on 14 albums (counting the “Past Masters” singles collection) and virtually every one has something to recommend it. Hell, even the ones on the Anthology series have something to recommend them. (Though one of Sheffield’s favorites, “It’s All Too Much,” is one I struggle to recommend. Well, there’s George Harrison’s great lyric, “Show me that I'm everywhere, and get me home for tea.”) They were remarkably self-contained and brilliant editors. They could play most of the instruments and knew how they wanted others to sound (with the help of George Martin, of course).
Above all, they had an unmatchable chemistry. When I listen to the Beatles, no matter where I drop the needle, I can feel the propulsion, often more than that – I can feel an incredible love and joy. For all of my worship of the late-‘60s Kinks or the Clash’s “London Calling” album or the pocket-tight thwock of a Benny Benjamin drum part, no other artist has ever been able to sustain that sheer energy so long and so consistently. The Beatles make me happy, and I’m not the only one who feels that way.
So, again, what are the chances?
It’s an impossible question to answer (even John Lennon, in his demystifying “Lennon Remembers” phase, dismissed the group as “just a band who made it very, very big”), but Sheffield doesn’t really try hard. He does note their fearlessness – this was a band of men who were unafraid to sing girl-group songs without changing the sex and made those songs work brilliantly – and their obvious determination to push one another. (Until, well, they broke.) But something is missing – some music theory, some additional cultural context, some flights of fancy, something. (Not the Harrison song – that’s in here.)
Now, I know I sound dismissive. That’s not quite right. I enjoyed “Dreaming the Beatles.” Sheffield does get at the fact that the Beatles pretty much created the template for rock ‘n’ roll lives to the point where it became either myth or cliché, take your pick: the early member who died tragically, the change in drummers that sealed the unit, the wives who broke up that old band of mine. The story has become so well-known that even the parodies have become “part of the soup,” in Harrison’s phrase. (Harrison, who gets off some nifty sarcastic lines in Eric Idle’s recent memoir, could also be surprisingly defensive about the group.)
Sheffield highlights the importance of Nicholas Schaffner’s “The Beatles Forever,” a 1977 volume that was the entry point for many post-breakup fans (OK, like me), notes the impact of Lennon’s murder on stoking interest, and offers some nice character sketches and song analyses. Also some intriguing facts: Apparently, in the group’s lawsuit against “Beatlemania,” John Lennon wrote in a statement that “I and the three other Beatles have plans to stage a reunion concert, to be recorded, filmed and marketed around the world.” He made that statement just after Thanksgiving, 1980.
Still, that also highlights what’s missing: the motivation of Beatles *fans*. One of my favorite books, surprisingly unmentioned in “Dreaming the Beatles,” is Mark Shipper’s “Paperback Writer,” a 1978 novel in which the group reunites in 1979 and proceeds to flop. Things get so bad that they’re forced to tour as Peter Frampton’s opening act. The late ‘70s was a time when Beatles reunion talk was in the air, but Shipper knew the reason had less to do with the Beatles than us: If the Beatles got back together, we could return to the garden. That was never going to happen, and Lennon’s death put an end to the dream, anyway.
Some quibbles: Sheffield has McCartney’s “My Love,” which he roasts mercilessly, as released in 1971; it actually came out in 1973, which Sheffield surely knows. Also, he says “radio wouldn’t touch” McCartney’s 1985 single “Spies Like Us” (done for the film). They must have touched it a bit, since it made the Top Ten. (The song *is* awful, as Sheffield says.) And I was surprised that a fan like Sheffield didn’t bother to look up the man he puts down as “Anonymous Session Guy” in McCartney’s video for “So Bad.” Uh, that would be Eric Stewart, who also played on the recording and was better known as part of 10cc – a band who could also create clever hooks, particularly in their hit, “The Things We Do for Love.”
Anyway, I’ve spent 1,300 words criticizing “Dreaming the Beatles” for not really getting at the meat of how the Beatles became THE BEATLES – the measuring stick for every rock band from now until probably forever, their music and lives permeating the culture – yet I don’t think I did any better. It gets back to the old Elvis Costello/Frank Zappa/Martin Mull quote: “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” You know where the answer is? In the grooves.
One, two, three, four --
I’m not exaggerating. In fact, I’ve loved the Beatles since before I have memories.
One of my first memories of identifying a record dates to when I was 5 or 6, circa 1970-71, when I heard “I Should Have Known Better” and “I’ll Get You” and knew they were by the Fab Four. (I did think the former’s title was “I Never Knew What a Kiss Could Be,” however. I had a lot to learn.) By that time, I had inherited my aunt’s singles collection, which included a number of Beatles 45s with the yellow-and-orange Capitol swirl. I played them constantly.
Even before owning the singles, I’d probably been hearing them for years. I watched the Beatles cartoon series in reruns (favorite songs: “Anna” and “And Your Bird Can Sing”). My aunt was a full-blown fan and visited my family in the summers – including 1966, when she saw the Beatles at Shea Stadium. And given that I was born in 1965, I suspect I heard the Beatles in the womb, because my mother – though preferring Eddie Fisher and Connie Francis to those long-haired British kids – liked to listen to the radio, and the radio would have been full of Beatles.
My love of the group has never really diminished. In high school I wore a T-shirt with “Beatle Maniac” on the back; in college, though my tastes branched out in many directions, I always came back to “Revolver,” or the White Album, or “Abbey Road”; and to this day, after decades of Beatle immersion, I continue to add to my Beatle knowledge, going from Nicholas Schaffner’s “The Beatles Forever” to Philip Norman’s “Shout” to Bob Spitz’s “The Beatles” to the first volume of Mark Lewisohn’s biography, while consuming other memoirs, magazine articles and comment boards.
I also know I’m not alone in my … obsession. So I was curious to see what Rob Sheffield – who has written some terrific Beatles-related articles for Rolling Stone – had to say about the Beatles’ hold on popular culture, the topic of his book “Dreaming the Beatles.”
Surprisingly, I think he missed the point.
Now, “Dreaming the Beatles” is engaging and interesting. Sheffield is too good a writer, and too knowledgeable a fan, to have produced a bad Beatles book. But what’s missing from “Dreaming the Beatles” (especially given its title) is something of the mysterious and mystical.
Before you roll your eyes again, hear me out.
In recent years, I’ve started thinking of the Beatles as something approaching a miracle. I know skeptics will scoff – every “miracle” can be read as the product of luck, timing and coincidence – but, still, what are the chances that four boys far removed from the cultural hub of their country find each other to form a good band, one of the best ever? What are the chances that they’re not only talented musicians but incredible songwriters? That they complement one another so well? That they meet both a manager and producer who underscore but don’t undermine their strengths? That they not only ride a rocket ship to fame – that’s happened countless times – but prove so adept at their art that they reshape not only popular music but popular culture as well? That their story (looked at from years later, of course) has an amazing arc that has them breaking up at the height of their powers, so we never have to deal with the usual – and inevitable – decline?
What are the chances that the corpus should be so free of chaff? The Beatles produced just over 200 songs on 14 albums (counting the “Past Masters” singles collection) and virtually every one has something to recommend it. Hell, even the ones on the Anthology series have something to recommend them. (Though one of Sheffield’s favorites, “It’s All Too Much,” is one I struggle to recommend. Well, there’s George Harrison’s great lyric, “Show me that I'm everywhere, and get me home for tea.”) They were remarkably self-contained and brilliant editors. They could play most of the instruments and knew how they wanted others to sound (with the help of George Martin, of course).
Above all, they had an unmatchable chemistry. When I listen to the Beatles, no matter where I drop the needle, I can feel the propulsion, often more than that – I can feel an incredible love and joy. For all of my worship of the late-‘60s Kinks or the Clash’s “London Calling” album or the pocket-tight thwock of a Benny Benjamin drum part, no other artist has ever been able to sustain that sheer energy so long and so consistently. The Beatles make me happy, and I’m not the only one who feels that way.
So, again, what are the chances?
It’s an impossible question to answer (even John Lennon, in his demystifying “Lennon Remembers” phase, dismissed the group as “just a band who made it very, very big”), but Sheffield doesn’t really try hard. He does note their fearlessness – this was a band of men who were unafraid to sing girl-group songs without changing the sex and made those songs work brilliantly – and their obvious determination to push one another. (Until, well, they broke.) But something is missing – some music theory, some additional cultural context, some flights of fancy, something. (Not the Harrison song – that’s in here.)
Now, I know I sound dismissive. That’s not quite right. I enjoyed “Dreaming the Beatles.” Sheffield does get at the fact that the Beatles pretty much created the template for rock ‘n’ roll lives to the point where it became either myth or cliché, take your pick: the early member who died tragically, the change in drummers that sealed the unit, the wives who broke up that old band of mine. The story has become so well-known that even the parodies have become “part of the soup,” in Harrison’s phrase. (Harrison, who gets off some nifty sarcastic lines in Eric Idle’s recent memoir, could also be surprisingly defensive about the group.)
Sheffield highlights the importance of Nicholas Schaffner’s “The Beatles Forever,” a 1977 volume that was the entry point for many post-breakup fans (OK, like me), notes the impact of Lennon’s murder on stoking interest, and offers some nice character sketches and song analyses. Also some intriguing facts: Apparently, in the group’s lawsuit against “Beatlemania,” John Lennon wrote in a statement that “I and the three other Beatles have plans to stage a reunion concert, to be recorded, filmed and marketed around the world.” He made that statement just after Thanksgiving, 1980.
Still, that also highlights what’s missing: the motivation of Beatles *fans*. One of my favorite books, surprisingly unmentioned in “Dreaming the Beatles,” is Mark Shipper’s “Paperback Writer,” a 1978 novel in which the group reunites in 1979 and proceeds to flop. Things get so bad that they’re forced to tour as Peter Frampton’s opening act. The late ‘70s was a time when Beatles reunion talk was in the air, but Shipper knew the reason had less to do with the Beatles than us: If the Beatles got back together, we could return to the garden. That was never going to happen, and Lennon’s death put an end to the dream, anyway.
Some quibbles: Sheffield has McCartney’s “My Love,” which he roasts mercilessly, as released in 1971; it actually came out in 1973, which Sheffield surely knows. Also, he says “radio wouldn’t touch” McCartney’s 1985 single “Spies Like Us” (done for the film). They must have touched it a bit, since it made the Top Ten. (The song *is* awful, as Sheffield says.) And I was surprised that a fan like Sheffield didn’t bother to look up the man he puts down as “Anonymous Session Guy” in McCartney’s video for “So Bad.” Uh, that would be Eric Stewart, who also played on the recording and was better known as part of 10cc – a band who could also create clever hooks, particularly in their hit, “The Things We Do for Love.”
Anyway, I’ve spent 1,300 words criticizing “Dreaming the Beatles” for not really getting at the meat of how the Beatles became THE BEATLES – the measuring stick for every rock band from now until probably forever, their music and lives permeating the culture – yet I don’t think I did any better. It gets back to the old Elvis Costello/Frank Zappa/Martin Mull quote: “Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” You know where the answer is? In the grooves.
One, two, three, four --
Oct . 1, 2017: 3-1/2 stars
Oct. 21, 2017: Increasing to 4 stars
Oct. 21, 2017: Increasing to 4 stars
I first remember learning about The Beatles when I was maybe 8 or so when my father, pretty randomly, showed us the Help movie. I remember thinking it was pretty weird but with some catchy music. My dad also shared some stories of the British invasion and the haircuts. But since neither of my parents were audiophiles, I didn't grow up listening to more of their music. I did have a 5th grade teacher who was still a hippy who taught us to sing Yellow Submarine, and along with the rest of all of us, you can't really grow up in America without knowing some of the basics of their catalogue. I have a vague memory of Anthology and One coming out, but never listened to either one at the time.
So it wasn't until college that I got into The Beatles, when friends shared their albums with me. College was overall a time for me when I caught up on a lot of music essentials, but the biggest two were The Beatles and Radiohead, for obvious reasons. I also got a hold of "The Gray Album", that mashup of Jay Z's Black Album and The White Album. I remember that blew me away.
Since then, The Beatles have been a part of my life. I listen through their albums at least once a year. My wife is ok with the early Beatles, but doesn't really like any music from that time, unless you can sneak it in there without her knowing. I'm of course passing The Beatles on to my own kids, although I'm not sure if I should let them make that discovery on their own or not.
So far, I've said nothing about this book of genius. Seriously, this book is incredible. It's a great book, even if you hate The Beatles, or could care less because it's really about how our world has developed since the 1960s, how we relate to each other in society, how we decide to like or hate things, how technology has changed, and so much more. It's really about life. And that pretty much sums up the impact of The Beatles: their range and depth and musicality are such that they have become part of the cultural air we breathe. So, as far as I am concerned, you might as well love them because otherwise you're going to have to put up with them. I think the Beatles are really the test case of a world in which everything is preserved by technology. All of history before this time was not this way. Now, everything new that comes out competes against the best of the past, or even the obscure of the past. This is a fascinating idea explored in this book.
Sheffield is an excellent and perceptive writer. He is encyclopedic in his knowledge of music, not just The Beatles, and he is often very vulnerable with his own story and The Beatles. He has some insights in this book that will keep me thinking for a long time.
Just do yourself a favor and read this book.
So it wasn't until college that I got into The Beatles, when friends shared their albums with me. College was overall a time for me when I caught up on a lot of music essentials, but the biggest two were The Beatles and Radiohead, for obvious reasons. I also got a hold of "The Gray Album", that mashup of Jay Z's Black Album and The White Album. I remember that blew me away.
Since then, The Beatles have been a part of my life. I listen through their albums at least once a year. My wife is ok with the early Beatles, but doesn't really like any music from that time, unless you can sneak it in there without her knowing. I'm of course passing The Beatles on to my own kids, although I'm not sure if I should let them make that discovery on their own or not.
So far, I've said nothing about this book of genius. Seriously, this book is incredible. It's a great book, even if you hate The Beatles, or could care less because it's really about how our world has developed since the 1960s, how we relate to each other in society, how we decide to like or hate things, how technology has changed, and so much more. It's really about life. And that pretty much sums up the impact of The Beatles: their range and depth and musicality are such that they have become part of the cultural air we breathe. So, as far as I am concerned, you might as well love them because otherwise you're going to have to put up with them. I think the Beatles are really the test case of a world in which everything is preserved by technology. All of history before this time was not this way. Now, everything new that comes out competes against the best of the past, or even the obscure of the past. This is a fascinating idea explored in this book.
Sheffield is an excellent and perceptive writer. He is encyclopedic in his knowledge of music, not just The Beatles, and he is often very vulnerable with his own story and The Beatles. He has some insights in this book that will keep me thinking for a long time.
Just do yourself a favor and read this book.
Riveting! I tore through this in one day--a warm, funny, intriguing take on the Beatles and on the role of music in our lives in general.
I stopped reading at 25%- tbh I bought this in a “wow have you heard of the Beatles???” phase in 2019 and I’m sorry to say I am not interested anymore
Love Rob Sheffield’s writing though!
Love Rob Sheffield’s writing though!