It’s 55 years since The Beatles released their last recorded sessions on vinyl, so let’s cross that Abbey Road track by track…
Come Together
Abbey Road kicks off with one of The Beatles’ very best. For a band that was just about to split, it’s ironic that they came up with an all-time great.
Come Together has classic written all over it, loosely based on Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me – I say, loosely based, but I think some music critics would suggest it might go a little bit further. That aside, it’s a moody, dark rocker that instantly grabs your attention. Ringo’s distinctive sound was achieved by putting wet tea towels on the drums so it would give that muted effect. By this point, The Beatles had also begun to make more use of electric pianos, including a Fender Rhodes for the instrumental break.
While Come Together was actually released as a double A-side single with Something, it didn’t do so well over here. It was released not long after the album, and only reached number four in the UK which is odd, because all their previous singles, by and large, scooted to number one – even The Ballad of John and Yoko got to number one in June 1969. It went all the way to the top in America, but its failure to reach the Top 3 arguably suggests that the novelty had worn off for UK buyers.
However, I cannot fault Come Together at all. I actually think it would be in my top 10 Beatles songs of all time.
Something
The flip side of Come Together, Something is unusual in that this was the first song to be released as a single that wasn’t written by Lennon or McCartney.
George handles vocal duties on this nice love song. I read somewhere that he was trying to write it in the style of a Ray Charles bluesy number, but it was also said to have been inspired by James Taylor’s Something In The Way She Moves which was released the previous December – James Taylor was one of the very first signings to the Apple label before quickly moving to Warner Brothers not long after.
Despite John dismissing Paul’s efforts as granny music, he actually said that this was his favourite on the album. While it’s a simple love song to his then missus, Pattie Boyd, there’s still a little bit of pessimism that creeps in (“You’re asking me will our love grow/I don’t know, I don’t know”).
It’s a great track, but unfortunately it’s one of those that tends to get picked on by one of my pet hates – choirs. When I was looking on YouTube the other day as to any notable cover versions of Something, there was this laughably rubbish choir version. The singing was appalling. The arrangements were all over the shop. They actually tried to sing the guitar solo, for the love of Macca. I wish that these gurning narcissists would learn that if you can’t sing – A. Don’t sing in public and inflict your screeching cat noise on others and B. Stop destroying other people’s perfectly good songs.
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
What can I say about Maxwell’s Silver Hammer?
In short, it’s about a serial killer called Maxwell Edison who goes around bludgeoning his victims to death with a silver hammer – the clue is in the title and all that. Around this time, Macca was getting into avant-garde theatre, which spills over into this jaunty, music hall style number that’s tonally at odds with the lyrics. Musically, it boasts some interesting incidental little touches like the tap of an anvil and the use of a Moog synthesiser.
It’s bizarre, but you know what? I quite like it in its own eccentric way, even if it wasn’t popular with the other Beatles. I think this was chiefly the track that John was referring to as granny music, even though somebody like Mary Whitehouse would have a field day with the lyrics. Elsewhere, Ringo allegedly complained that it was the worst track the Beatles had ever recorded, while George regarded it as “fruity”, which is as fair a description as you could get. Marmite’s probably more on the nose, but in its own stupidly gormless way, it’s quite entertaining.
Oh Darling
This always reminds me of a track called Donna by 10cc, which was their first big hit in 1972. The original is a pastiche of 50s, early 60s doo-wop R&B. Interestingly, Paul doesn’t sing it in the way that you would think, opting for a raspy, throaty growl. Apparently, he would get up first thing in the morning and go into the recording studio to lay down the vocal track. Now that’s dedication.
Octopuses Garden
Things do start to tail off on Side One with the obligatory Ringo throwaway nursery rhyme. Hats off to Ringo though, as he actually wrote it himself as a diversion to all the argy bargy that was tearing the band apart. With tensions in the recording studio and tedious admin with Apple accountants, Ringo just wanted to get away. So when he was on a boat that was owned by Peter Sellers, one day he ordered a a meal of fish and chips and instead what he got was a plate of squid. The captain of the boat then started explaining at length about the the habits of the octopus, causing Ringo to put pen to paper.
It’s a harmless enough ditty – just not my cup of squid juice. On the up side, it features some interesting sound techniques like George blowing through a straw in a glass of milk. But overall, too twee for my taste.
I Want You (She’s So Heavy)
I’m not mad about the last track on Side One either. I would have liked it more if it was shorter. It clocks in at an exhausting seven minutes and 44 seconds, outstaying its welcome big style.
On its own terms, I Want You is quite an effective attempt at heavy prog rock, with John tearing his voice box into tiny pieces. He’s pre-empting the approach he’ll take on the Plastic Ono Band album, which is loaded with Primal Scream wails, shouts and shrieks.
A big turn-off for me in music is repetition. This one replays the same old guitar motif over and over for what seems like aeons, while using the Moog again to create that very distinctive wind noise which abruptly cuts out just like that.
Here Comes The Sun
Side Two of Abbey Road is unusually structured, because the majority of it is given to a medley. It does, however, kick off with two stand-alone songs: one of which is Here Comes The Sun – another instant classic and one that shows how far George had come during his time with the Beatles.
A brilliantly crafted pop song, Here Comes the Sun runs along the same lines as Octopuses Garden in that it was written as a response to Harrison’s dissatisfaction with the way the Beatles were heading. He hated the “dopey” Apple accountants and bureaucracy. A good escape for George was sitting in the sun on a warm April day in 1969. The rest is history.
Brilliantly played, Here Comes The Sun has nice use of a Moog synthesiser, most notably in the middle bit. Lennon was actually AWOL from these sessions, because he had been in a car accident prior to recording. But this is George’s show all the way, and was so popular that it would be covered by a whole host of artists and bands including Richie Havens, Nina Simone and Steve Harley who scored his own top 10 hit in 1976.
Because
Because was apparently was inspired by Yoko Ono playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on the piano. That doesn’t put me off though – this is another top drawer Beatles track.
I love the structure of Because – essentially a nine-voice showcase that multiplies three lots of Lennon McCartney and Harrison multi-tracked vocals. It’s only accompanied by the Moog and an electric harpsichord which was played by George Martin.
When I reach this track on Abbey Road, I close my eyes and I’m on another world because of those harmonies. It’s a beautiful piece of music that really does stand the test of time very well indeed.
You Never Give Me Your Money
Onto the medley bit, which begins with You Never Give Me Your Money. The medley comprises fragments of songs, some of which are longer than others. You Never Give Me Your Money is one of those that could be described as a song in its own right because it’s it is longer than the others.
Again, it goes back to the the pickle that the Beatles were in with the Apple label. Admin struggles and financial problems were taking their toll, and the lyrics are directed at a specific target (who shall remain nameless – I have no money at all, so best not go into all that).
You Never Give Me Your Money does come up with quite an interesting range of styles all in one. It starts off as a melancholy piano ballad, before bringing in the honky tonk keys, seguing into heavy rock and a final childlike nursery rhyme fade out with a boat drifting out to sea. Very pick and mix, but it does just about function as a fully-fledged track.
Sun King
Another lovely bit of multi-tracked harmony work from Lennon, McCartney and Harrison. Again I can just close my eyes and picture being on a hot, sunny island away from the numbers.
A really nice Hawaiian-style guitar sound to Sun King, it’s got a lovely vibe to it, and it’s a shame it wasn’t longer.
Mean Mr Mustard
Things get a little bit more daft with Mean Mr Mustard, which nevertheless, is based on a true story. Apparently, Lennon was reading a newspaper article about this guy called John Mustard. I don’t know how true this is or not, but allegedly, the actual Mr Mustard pugged all his cash away so that he didn’t have to give it to family, friends or charity. Jaunty, fun pop, which is over in the blink of an eye. No more, no less.
Polythene Pam
Acoustic guitar-driven throwaway fluff sung by John in a very heavy Scouse accent. Again, the story goes that John wrote this based on his own experience – in this case, about a guy called Royston Ellis, who tried to set Lennon up in the early ’60s with a girl who was clad from head to toe in polythene.
Some of the lyrics probably wouldn’t stand up today. I can imagine some of the more easily offended getting their knickers in a twist over this, but it is what it is. It’s a corker of a tune actually, very catchy and just a bit of fun.
She Came In Through The Bathroom Window
She Came In Through The Bathroom Window would later be covered by Joe Cocker with a fair degree of success. The original continues the run of true stories, penned by Macca about a fan who tried to break into his house.
Another good choon and one that boasts some really good guitar work.
Golden Slumbers
A piano ballad that sees Macca make a strange vocal choice. He starts singing it very gently and then goes into that sort of throaty snarl that he used on the likes of Oh Darling and Helter Skelter. That sort of vocal performance would give kids screaming nightmares.
Golden Slumbers is based on a work by a guy called Thomas Dekker. It’s typical Macca granny music, but to be honest, it’s not the sort of lullaby that I would have sung to my daughters when they were babies. It’s a bit weird.
Carry That Weight
The sing-along anthem is another of my pet hates, so Carry That Weight inevitably was never going to be a favourite of mine.
Having said that, the lyrics are quite poignant because we’re getting to the end of not only the album, but also the end of The Beatles’ time. The words deal with the fact that despite going their separate ways, they will still effectively carry the weight of being in The Beatles forever.
The End
Even more poignant is The End, which is kind of like The Beatles saying goodbye one last time. Each gets to showcase his own musical talent in a loose jam. Ringo gets to do his drum solo, in comes the bass, the piano, the frantic guitar…
Throughout this, they’re singing “Love you” like a final farewell to the fans. I especially like the way it suddenly cuts off and then there’s just a piano and the band musing: “And in the end/the love you take/is equal to the love you make.” Profound, and just a little bit moving.
Her Majesty
It’s not quite the end though, because one of the first examples of a hidden track pops up to dampen down the emotion. Given the passing of Mrs Maj, I’m not quite sure that certain dedicated royalists would get the joke, but it’s simply a throwaway bit of whimsy that keeps things unpredictable in true Beatles style right until the very end.
Despite one or two bumps in the Abbey Road, this is an astonishing piece of work and makes for a far more fitting sign-off for the Fab Four than the troubled Let It Be.
(Cover design credited to Kosh and Iain MacMillan)
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