HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-17-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Now is a great time to get out and see some live music for the very good reason that you CAN. We went to see a fun concert at the Ridgefield Playhouse, a bunch of great musicians coming together to pay tribute to "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver," two of the greatest Beatles albums. Todd Rundgren, Christopher Cross, Denny Laine and members of Chicago and Badfinger were there to play the Beatles' as well as their own hits.

     People who think that it all started with the Beatles don't know much about music, and they know even less about petty theft. Any of the four would be the first to tell you that they lovingly stole from the artists they admired. "Please Please Me" borrowed the idea of holding one note while the second voice sang a descending melody from the Everly Brothers' "Cathy's Clown," and the high-pitched "Ooohs" during "Twist and Shout" and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" were lifted right out of Little Richard's playbook. And when Denny Laine with the Moody Blues, and Todd Rundgren with Nazz and others took that Liverpool sound and ran in different directions with it, the Beatles built further on their sounds once again, essentially stealing from themselves, which is a brilliant business model only in music.

     The songs hold up just fine after more than 55 years. "She Said She Said" is incredibly complex and yet you can still sing it in the shower. If you can't hit the high notes, put the hot water on full. Anyone who thought Ringo is anything less than a fantastic drummer should listen to this song and then call him up to apologize. The "middle 8" is in a weird meter so don't try to dance to it or you'll sprain your ankle.

     "Michelle" is a song idea that would never occur to me because I took Latin in school instead of French. French is a language a girl like Michelle might like whispered in her ear, whereas everything you whisper in Latin sounds like a state motto. Plus nothing sexy rhymes with "agricolae."

     They did a great job on difficult Beatles songs like "Nowhere Man." The difference between the Beatles and most bands is that "Nowhere Man" is a timeless song and a top-ten hit in their hands. For most bands it's simply be the answer to the question, "Dudes, we've been trying to write this song for three hours. Where is this going?"

     The encore was "Yellow Submarine," which is a great sing-along. On the original record their girlfriends and some of the Rolling Stones did just that. Part of being a pro in the business for many decades is not necessarily knowing the song backwards and forwards, but what to do if you don't. If you think the end chorus repeats 8 times but everyone else in the band thinks it goes 6, then just clap your hands over your head and yell out to the audience, "Everybody! Let me hear you!" And we were happy to take the chorus another 16 bars until we surfaced again and it was time to go.

     One of the things that impresses me most when I think of the Beatles is their artistic generosity, and how it came to pay them back many times over. By calling all the material "Lennon-McCartney" songs, they included each other in a process that most people would try to hoard. And in return it opened the door for contributions, a bridge here, lyrics there, that when you think of the songs you can't imagine without them. Another example was their faith in George Martin's innovative embellishments. The Beatles had become a bigger deal than the invention of the wheel, and in some cases more useful. I can imagine a thousand peevish, petulant, pouting punks who would have flicked their cigarette in George Martin's direction and said, "You're going to record a Baroque string quartet as the only backing to my song? Thanks but instead I'm going to shred a screaming, one-note lead break through most of it and then order a burrito."

     The Beatles aren't around to play these songs anymore, so I appreciate the opportunity to hear them rendered by great musicians, some of whom have played with the four lads. If I had been at those concerts back in the '60s they would have been even louder than they were, with 30,000 screaming girls, and me yelling, "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" at the top of my lungs. The Ridgefield Playhouse is a friendly, intimate theater with great sound. It's a non-profit organization, much like most of the bands I've ever been in, but in their case it's on purpose.