Idols should be seen and not heard within private earshot.

Imagine the biggest name in show business tells the world that their success never had a chance without the admiration and influence they cherished toward you, but your fading in the limelight, heading for the dreaded description as a has-been, yet the top of charts British Invasion entertainers still can’t wait to meet you while conquering America in 1964.

Today marks the 51^st anniversary our adored Beatles met their beloved idol, Elvis Presley, on their 2nd American tour in 1965. Earlier that day, the lads had attended a recording session of “She Don’t Care About Time “at Columbia studios featuring their favorite America group, the Byrds. I’m guessing the soundtrack invitation blossomed 48 hours’ prior during a shared LSD party with David Crosby and Peter Fonda at the mansion Epstein rented, owned by Zsa Zsa Gabor. Most of the day a quibble between the King and Fab Four ricocheted over who would come to who and neither wanted a face off away from their own protected surroundings. The Beatles, in fact, snubbed the whole idea if the press were to use the event as a publicity stunt. Finally, an agreement between Colonel Parker and Brian Epstein came to light that included no media or interviews, no pictures, posed or candid, and no recordings, no matter what evolved throughout their encounter.

After all the I’s were dotted and the T’s crossed, the Mop-Tops joined a parade of chauffeured limousines that arrived just before 10 pm for transport at the boys rented home. Parker lead the way through the winding streets of Bel Air and security grew to intensive measures dawned only by those who were part of the Memphis Mafia. No, I don’t mean hitmen, loan sharks, bootleggers, or southern syndicate crime boss men––I’m talking about Presley’s bodyguards.

So, there they were, the two greatest Rock and Roll artists of all time, ready to receive each other for their first meet and greet introduction.  One man, aloof, acting unimpressed, but still the idol of four other pop superstars, nervous, anxious, and curious. The younger quartet on top of the world, and an aging Mr. Swivel Hips who hadn’t add a #1 hit (Good Luck Charm) since 1962.  Yes, the prediction boasted by the Beatles manager, “My boys are going to be bigger than Elvis Presley”, had grown as a full-fledged unquestionable truth, and Mr. Sideburns knew it. Lennon didn’t help matters to console a dethroned living legend when he half-joked, but also dead serious with his first question to the farm boy turned mega celebrity, “What happened to the old Rock-n-Roll Elvis, why are you recording such rubbish in your films? That jab pretty much drew in a sullen atmosphere the rest of the evening. Later, John expressed in vast disappointment, “meeting Elvis was about as exciting as meeting Englebert Humperdinck.” That comment alone proves my point, fans are better off left at a distance than to fall victim and hear their perfect idol speak out what really is on their mind or act out what really is believed their over indulged assumed privilege.    

My new novel has a scene that includes a brief account of this night. I hope each of you enjoys the crime mystery. Please leave a comment on any of my posts, and be assured, I appreciate every review you share on Amazon.com in connection to my book, Beatlemaniac.   

And now for something completely different.

Hello,

Today I wish to swerve off the chosen trail of Beatle lore, and let you all in on a new discovery my new doctor revealed yesterday as to my condition of health. He found the cause of my abdominal cramps that had a habit of flaring up every four months ever since September 2008 and I’m so relieved he knows the motive. Numerous 911 calls and ambulance rides in the past to the Emergency Room never could locate the actual reason for my discomfort. The diagnosis always pointed to the inception of possible Diverticulosis, by virtue I consumed way too many peanuts watching baseball games. As you can guess, I stopped inhaling peanuts, but those awful twinges tearing at my mid-drift kept returning.   

Thanks to an increase in yearly income, I took an opportunity to change my medical plan to commence this August 1^st. I felt pretty good about my decision since I had reached status of senior citizen, and the aging body my soul lived in seemed to be at the threshold of more zones primed for complaints. Sure enough, last Sunday I ate a scrambled egg sandwich for breakfast around 9:30 am and by 10:00 am, I was laid out flat in the fetal position, with a pain level not as severe as before, yet, full aware not a single peanut slipped past my tonsils. After a few hours, I tried pain medication a doctor prescribed for me from my prior ER visit last March, but the pill didn’t remove all the pain. I waited the six hours and tried more meds and they did nothing at all to help. I went to bed and tossed all through the night nitpicking pros and cons over dialing 911.

7:00 am Monday, I phoned my new Health Provider and after a thorough discussion with an on call ER physician, she suggested I get acquainted with my new doctor. An opening for 9:00 am showed and I grabbed the slot. Over the phone, she then explained the facility I would arrive at was a full-service medical building capable of detecting my troubled source. Before 11:30, I was out the door with a new four-day follow-up appointment per my general practitioner, a non-feeling needle poke in the arm, and antibiotics plus verbal instructions issued by the pharmacist.

Come Friday, what a shock to learn the grand doctor unearthed I’m allergic to wheat, barley, and rye. He said a condition known as Celiac Disease took up residency underneath my belly-button. In layman’s terms, the doctor made clear it was essential I switch to a gluten free diet. No wonder cramps resurfaced at the drop of a hat, I’m such a fan for fast-food hamburgers, Quiznos toasted sandwiches and pizza. From now on, bread products are off limits. But hey, that’s not a big deal compared to the agony otherwise.

If by chance these stomach issues ring a bell, after eating items made with the types of grains and flour that harm me, please tell your doctor. Also take a glance at the website below for some amazing information about gluten free diets. Stay well, my friends.

https://celiac.org/live-gluten-free/glutenfreediet/food-options/

Bad Finger Boogie, aka, With A Little Help From My Friends.

Hello again, and welcome to the weekend. Hope your all well.

As 1966 came close to an end, December 9^th launched a Beatles Oldies but Goodies LP direct from the vault of EMI, which triggered a mind blown rumor the lads had faltered on demand. News spread their musical reign vanished, washed up, dried out and had nothing more to give. Part of the gossip pointed blame toward all termination with touring. So, with the stick to their guns’ policy of no more concerts, the Beatles answered the call from Manager Brian Epstein and producer George Martin to write and record music for a new album. Enter Sgt. Pepper. Through months of hard work and sealed lips against the media, well-nigh every song was complete and fashioned around a decent arrangement, except for one, needed to spotlight drummer Richie. Paul knew he had to whip up some type of playful ditty immersed in a children’s style chorus for Ringo that followed the fascination formula done so well on Yellow Submarine––and what a masterpiece he established. McCartney must have swallowed the concept of how “Less is More” because the melody of each verse took only five notes––a task Ringo appreciated to no end––huh, not counting the high closing note their percussionist fussed and complained about often that he couldn’t reach it without adding an awful strain to his already inferior and weak vocal. Well, as Paul’s grandfather in A Hard Day’s Night would say, “Poor little Richard, have you no natural resources of your own?”, Ringo dreaded every ounce of his effort to climb the melodic scale and belt out the horrendous top note. But he did it after great encouragement and a few tips from Paul. However, that high note wasn’t the first major complaint the shortest member with the deepest voice had over this song. Mr. Starr brought an even larger protest to the board room. His legitimate gripe was the outlandish, in his opinion, lyric, by which he asserted, was asking for assault and battery to his face, either on the stage or just out and about in public. You see, In the beginning, this clever song had the first verse sound off with a question. John liked Paul’s idea of having a question open the tune and in reply to Paul’s inquiry, John let his tongue spill out the obvious people wish to do when they hear rubbish. Read the line Ringo refused to sing . . .  (What would you think if I sang out of tune?  Would you throw rotten tomatoes at me?) Ringo remembers it as written, (What would you do if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and throw tomatoes at me.) The Beatles’ best film actor understood he wasn’t a singer and realized his featured tracks on previous albums had areas where they drifted off key. But he wasn’t keen on becoming an exposed target, based on a thought provoked invitation. Hence, the line was changed.

How did the title start with Bad Finger Boogie? Before Paul showed the melody to his composing partner, John had slightly damaged his forefinger and felt much too sore to play guitar or keyboard. After he arrived at McCartney’s home, he used his middle finger to ka-plunk the melody on the piano Paul had taught him for Ringo to sing. It was at that point the awkward sensation and appearance in using the middle finger birthed the silly name. I can’t say how long John’s finger caused him pain, but I know that the last time he used his guitar was while recording Getting Better on March 9, 1967. Twenty days later the lads laid down ten takes inside the studio for Ringo’s, With A Little Help From My Friends, and the only instrument John played was the cowbell.

 A final side note, sad as it is, this song happened to be little Sean’s favorite just before his famous father perished, gunned down at the Dakota in New York City. However, it’s by far my favorite Ringo lead vocal song and when I perform the tune at restaurants or assisted living facilities, several sing along and enjoy the happy-go-lucky feeling that dominates the room when played.

We all can benefit with a little help from our friends.

Revolver turns 50 today.

Good morning, and a happy Golden anniversary Friday to you all,

Released in 1966, Revolver has been prized as one of best albums our acclaimed Beatles ever made. Innovative is an understatement, so much so, the lads drifted from their fascination formula.

Example, George was blown away he had been given the green light for three tracks, Taxman, Love You Too, and I Want to Tell You, spotlighting his musical composition style. A little side note––Harrison had a different approach how he wrote his songs compared to John and Paul. John usually started on lyrics, being a witty personality having a way with words, then added music to the lines of rhymes. Paul usually started with a melody, attach the flair to complementary chords, and build lyrics around the lead vocal to fit the notes necessary syllables.  George, however, would first figure out a nice combination flow of chords patched together, then try tasteful melody patterns well-suited to circle around the triads sequence, and then integrate matching words. I use the same method as George when writing my own songs.

Another example how the fascination formula took a back-seat is Yellow Submarine. A standard policy that helped propel the Beatles sales often consisted pushing out a hot, top of the charts single, to pave the way for a new album. By tradition, John insisted their new albums should allow for all new tracks without the latest two 45rpm songs issued beforehand. He took a stand it was like charging their fans twice and whenever possible he snubbed the practice. However, no such single of totally different songs to counterpoise a scramble for Revolver existed. Unlike the last time where on a Friday, December 3^rd to be exact, Day Tripper/We Can Work It Out, the first ever pronounced double A-side single, opened massive purchasing power floodgates straight to Rubber Soul, a separate Yellow Submarine/Eleanor Rigby disk, which both were included on the new album, was pressed into a 45 single and issued alongside Revolver, also on a Friday, August 5^th. . . coincidental matching this fiftieth-year anniversary by falling on a Friday.  Brian Epstein demanded the course of action to pressing the single in haste, believing it had enormous commercial appeal, and didn’t like the idea another recording artist might lift it high on the charts. In addition, Yellow Submarine positioned for the first time, Ringo to sing lead on a hit single, reaching number 1 in the UK and number 2 in the States, at which management assumed John’s remark how the Beatles were more popular than Jesus quote, must have slowed sales. But all the same, the hit single ended up on the album and that alone caused the 45 disk a road to nowhere.

Since the band no longer covered tunes by people they idolized, Paul felt pressure to whip up something for Ringo. As was the custom, his lead vocal got featured on one song per album. Paul hit it out of the park convinced a children’s song could shine a brighter star on Mr. Starr. This simple little ear-catching tune took more hours in the studio than recording the Beatles entire first album. A few of the reasons make perfect sense, in that the night they started, George Martin was home bedridden from a wicked dose of food poisoning, which was like showing up at work and finding a message from your boss saying, “Hold down the fort as best you can, I’m away on personal business.”  And of course, all those sound effects throughout the song had to be found, tested, and perfected taking lots of precious studio time. Plus, we can’t forget the chorus of people invited to sing along––you know, the friends Ringo sings about that are all aboard. For instance, that’s Pattie Harrison voicing the loudest shrill on the second verse, even though her husband George never contributed with a guitar, but instead played tambourine, sang vocals and used sound effects. Staff from the studio inner office received invites to join the choir with Mrs. Harrison, including phone calls for Donovan, Marianne Faithfull, Mick Jagger, and Brian Jones.  Did you know Revolver had a ridiculous working title called, Abracadabra? Thank God some other musical group already had chosen that name as an earlier label, so it ended up tossed. With tongue in cheek, Ringo suggested After Geography as a response to the Rolling Stones recent album, Aftermath.  Some idiot suggested Beatles on Safari, can you believe it? Maybe a prayer to ride the same wave as Brian Wilson’s Pet Sounds studio album that made a huge splash on May 16, 1966. Perhaps Thinking of Linking Surfing Safari. Finally, a title struck promise, Four Sides of a Circle, and from there came Revolver. Longtime friend, Klaus Voorman was asked to use his artistic talent and design the cover. He did for 40 English pounds and later that year, won the Grammy for best cover art. This award opened doors to freelance design covers for other pop groups such as the Bee Gees, who requested his service for their first album. . . if he wasn’t away touring as the bass player for Manfred Mann. I got to meet Klaus at a Los Angeles Beatlefest event in the mid-70s. There I learned he had turned down invitations to play bass for the Hollies and the Moody Blues. He went on to say he became a session musician near the Fall of 1969 and moved to Los Angeles in 1971. I guess we both were members of Musicians Union local 47 in Hollywood by then.

Hey, although Revolver entered the Record Shops just before the band took flight for their last North American Tour, not a single track from the new release found a spot on the show. The boys admitted they were too difficult to perform live. Ugh, pulling out the old songs routine must have been a downer compared to the vast improved material just recorded and surely added a sour note on the amount of reasons as to why continue stadium concerts. I bet they all could have pulled off my favorite song from the album, And Your Bird Can Sing, in front of fifty thousand ticket holders––it’s number nine on the playlist. I’ve got a feeling this was also John’s favorite new song at the time.

Inside my novel, Beatlemaniac, I’ve written a section of dialog between two characters that spells out an eerie theme connecting many of the 14 tracks from Revolver in a dark way. Sorry, no spoilers will ever come from me. Just three dollars will pave the way unfolding the mystery. See My Shop page for details.

 An ending thought to ponder. It seems the playfulness humor that so easily bounced off each other brought the four Beatles back to their roots inside the studio and just like the first album Please, Please Me blasts the sendoff rocker, I Saw Here Standing There, into orbit through the speakers with a four count, likewise we hear Taxman given a same four-count to jumpstart the music onward. 

Enjoy the weekend!