Autobiography

I’ve been so caught up in the Beatles lately that a friend or two has called me out on not listening to anything else. That’s not entirely true; though there was a week when I listened to literally nothing but, I’ve also been hard at work critiquing CDs for the magazine I work at.

But I have been listening to the Beatles so much that analysis of songs worms its way into my daily conversations. Today I told a coworker that I’m working on my bachelor’s in Beatles. For the longest time I thought I was just catching up with the rest of the world. Then last night I watched Across the Universe and was (appropriately!) delighted by details like the Cavern’s appearance in an early Liverpool scene. That’s when it clicked. Virtually everyone likes the Beatles. But everyone is not going to recognize that arch over the stage. 

And so tonight, when I want to ramble on about how great “Please Please Me” is, I’m turning to the Internet at large instead of emailing the same four people or calling my dad with my enthusiastic blather. I keep thinking that I’m the last person to jump on the Beatles bandwagon, but the truth is that there will always be someone new. Nearly 50 years after their first album, the music still grabs hold of un- or under-exposed listeners.

I bought Please Please Me (1963) and Let It Be  (1970) two or three weeks ago, bringing my studio album collection near completion. (I’m still without With the Beatles. My birthday is July 5.) Throughout my career as a Beatles fan (a ridiculous statement, I know, since it’s been less than two years since I bought my first album), I’ve always preferred later Beatles. The deeper they got into their careers (and everything that went with that), the more engaging their music became. I’ve listened to Please Please Me seven times through, as compared to Let It Be nine times. It’s not a huge discrepancy, but it’s to be expected.

But I’ve listened to the single “Please Please Me” probably four times today alone. I tend to be pretty naïve when songs are about … sensitive subjects. I was out of college when my (younger!) sister explained a line in “Baby Got Back,” a song I’d heard more times than I cared to over the course of eight years. 

That’s not the case here. I know exactly what John is saying. And that’s OK. The lyrics aren’t the point either, not for me, not on this song.

I tend to think of the Beatles’ early work as more innocent, with songs like “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “She Loves You” jumping out. But this track destroys those, even though “She Loves You” will always hold a special place in my heart. “Please Please Me” feels so much more authentic to me, more gritty and true, and more so as I continue to read about the band. And I am obsessed with the guitar on this song. Absolutely obsessed. 

If only I’d been alive in the 60s. If this song is still affecting people nearly 50 years after it was written, I can only imagine what I would have been like witnessing the band in action. I would have been the screaming, bawling girl on the front row.

Instead, I’m her circa 2009, sitting in front of a computer and daydreaming about a time before I was born.

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I’ve been meaning to write a post about my newfound Beatles obsession for a while now. It’s been a year and a half since I bought my first album, and nearly a year since I fell in love. At the urging of several friends, I’ve become a total fan girl, have read and even started purchasing books about the band, and can talk about them for hours. There’s a lot to say.

But tonight my fandom was used against me (though you could argue that it was for the greater good).  First, a little something you ought to know about me: I am not a movie person. I own maybe seven movies on DVD, and another three or four on VHS. I’m not terribly concerned about improving my collection. Of the 150 items on my amazon wish list, 16 are DVDs. Of those, seven are the seven seasons of the Gilmore Girls, one is Saved By The Bell and four are music DVDs. Only four are actually movies (and of those, two are movies about music and one is a musical!). 

So it was easy for me to add “Never see any of the Star Wars films” to my goals in life. I’m not especially interested in science fiction and I’m not especially interested in movies. My friend Susan recoiled in horror when I mentioned that I’d never seen any of the movies, and so that particular goal was born.

It was a short-lived aim. Somehow that fun fact came up again tonight, at trivia with the boys (and now the girls–I believe we were a balanced team this week! But that’s a totally different conversation). And so I again shared that goal. My friend Adam wasn’t just horrified–he issued an ultimatum. “This means I can’t hang out with you anymore,” he said.

I laughed, hard, because that was such a perfect reaction and because it was such an Adam reaction. But he wasn’t kidding. (I knew that without asking, actually.)

The people clustered at our end of the table began listing reasons why I should rescind this goal. The Star Wars films totally changed filmmaking (or something like that), they said. I only need to see three of the six, they offered. There are so many references in common culture! (OK, I threw that one in–Susan offered it several weeks ago.) None of that swayed me. 

And then the Beatles saved my and Adam’s friendship.

“Imagine if you had never given the Beatles a chance,” Laura said. “Think of how much they’ve enriched your life”–even in a short time, and with my collection still incomplete. That, she said, is how my life is without the Star Wars movies. It’s that important, she believes.

After contemplating this, I found the paper where I began penning my life goals and demanded Adam’s attention. As I drew bold slashes through “Never watch Star Wars,” Adam proclaimed that we could continue to hang out, after all. Mark that down as one more way the Beatles have enriched my life.

This post is dedicated to John Taylor, who needs to give the Beatles a chance.