1. |
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2. |
Meet The Beatles
03:07
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We’ve all been waiting for this moment to smile—it’s been awhile;
Cloudy skies have compromised our style.
We’ve all been waiting for this moment to dance—
Give us a chance:
Let us spin madly in sunny meadows, like the Wonderland teacup ride.
Meet the Beatles and return to where you were;
Before you meet the Beatles, you must learn to trust the word,
The word is LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.
We’ve all been waiting for this moment to cheer—
Finally it’s here: Let us lie ’neath the sky,
Versifying in the manner of Edward Lear.
Meet the Beatles and prepare for something new,
Until you meet the Beatles, you can’t square the root of you,
Which equals LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.
Meet the Beatles, see the rainbow spinning ’round and ’round and
Meet the Beatles, feel the chains come unbound,
The sound is LOVE, LOVE, LOVE.
Meet the Beatles, and it’s right out of the blue.
Meet the Beatles, there’s so much work to undo.
Meet the Beatles, come and join the many few.
Meet the Beatles, at the airport just for you.
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3. |
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It wasn’t a happy household—it didn’t contain a lot of joy;
How many households do? Maybe a few.
It wasn’t a happy household—we were often asked to play outside;
Dark speculation on what they might want to try to hide.
And the form in which salvation shall come is The Beatles’ Second Album;
Put in on the hi-fi, it will rectify things for awhile,
Make us cry and make us smile.
It wasn’t a happy household—father refused to sit at table;
We carried as best as we were able to do.
It wasn’t a happy household; mother in sunglasses and shawl
sits at the wheel of her Jaguar, goes nowhere at all.
And the form in which salvation shall come is The Beatles’ Second Album;
Put in on the hi-fi, it will rectify things for awhile,
Make us cry and make us smile.
Let it carry me and Mary out to where we can float
very like a kite upon a sparkling sea.
And the form in which salvation shall come is The Beatles’ Second Album;
Put in on the hi-fi,
it will rectify things for awhile,
Make us cry and make us smile,
Hold us in a tender way, say the things we cannot say,
Reignite our self-esteem, reunite a broken team.
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4. |
A Hard Day's Night
03:06
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McGuinn and Crosby watched A Hard Day’s Night;
It filled their hearts with a sudden delight;
Then, again, on the very next night,
McGuinn and Crosby watched A Hard Day’s Night.
Harrison’s Rickenbacker on “I Should Have Known Better”
sent a shockwave through Jim’s brain (not yet Roger’s brain);
This in combination with the Ravi Shankar records Crosby was always playing,
and, of course, Coltrane, gave birth to a new thing under the sun.
Clark and Hillman watched A Hard Day’s Night;
It filled their hearts with a sudden delight;
Then, again, on the very next night,
Clark and Hillman watched A Hard Day’s Night.
Passionate declaration of intelligent love with a backbeat tripped Gene’s brain;
He never was the same.
This, in combination with the old-time music Hillman was always playing,
and, of course, Coltrane, gave birth to a new thing under the sun.
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5. |
Beatles '65
04:00
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Beatles ’65—in love again, sun is shining down;
Beatles ’65—in love again;
Holding on to my umbrella ’cause I know it might not last.
Beatles ’65—in love again, sun is shining down;
Beatles ’65—in love again;
Holding on to my umbrella ’cause I know it might not last.
Holding on to my umbrella ’cause I know the rain can come at any time,
You’re looking good, you’re feeling fine;
You’re on the move, you’re in the groove,
Suddenly the song is gone; you don’t know where it went;
You know that it was heaven-sent; you know exactly what it meant;
Now it’s time to carry on.
Waiting for the sun to arrive;
Waiting, and just staying alive.
Beatles ’65—in love again, flowers are in bloom;
Beatles ’65—in love again; sun will have find its way through the window
into my room, into my room
Sun will have to find its way into my room,
Into my room, into my room, into my room, , into my room.
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6. |
Beatles VI
03:41
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I’ve seen ’em come and go,
I’ve seen it all before.
I’ve worked up in the tower and I’ve worked down on the floor.
You got something to sell, you make it kinda sweet;
You cut it up real good, you put it on the street.
Give ’em just a taste—that’s one of the tricks;
They’ll come back next week—they gotta get their kicks.
Beatles VI.
The parents are listening to the kids,
and the kids are listening to us, ’cause we’ve got media saturation.
Take the deejays out, steak and 7-Crown;
Fly ’em to Miami Beach and put ’em up downtown.
Out at the poolside, see the way they mix
with their Southern-fried accommodating chicks.
Beatles VI.
Everyone’s a whore, everyone’s a thief;
Life is just a great big bore—be thankful that it’s brief.
My mother never swore, my father he laid bricks;
I sit on a hotel floor throwing Pick-up Sticks.
Beatles VI.
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7. |
Help!
03:59
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Help me understand how he ended up with Yoko instead of Eleanor Bron—
They were getting it on in the Bahamas every day,
Leaving their possessions and the troubled world behind,
Delving into pleasures of the body and the mind, hiding it away.
Help me understand how he ended up with Krishna—
Just a kid from the neighborhood—
With a wink and smile he could win hearts in countries near and far.
Harping on religion made him something of a bore;
Sanctimony chased his sense of humor out the door, hiding it away.
Help me understand how he ended up so unashamed:
All the stadium tours sponsored by Coors;
He stole ideas from Denny Laine;
On that day in Woollton who could possibly have knwn
each of them would end up so apart and so alone, hiding it away?
Help me understand how he ended up so much the same:
Took a walk on the wild side; took the ultimate wild ride;
Nothing could bring him up or down
He had a peasant’s understanding of the truth—
That understanding kept a watch over his youth, hiding it away.
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8. |
Rubber Soul
03:49
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I’m in possession of a rubber soul.
I go bouncing back & forth, back & forth between today and yesterday.
Never certain of the North, I go bouncing back & forth, and guess the way.
I’m in possession of a rubber soul.
See the tops of houses gleam—I am flying through a dream of yesterday—
Far below a moonlight stream . . . feathered owls and the frosty treetops sway.
And I’ve seen you coming from six miles away;
And I’ve seen you, but I don’t know what to say,
’Cause I’m taken with the glory of the day
And I’m shaken and I don’t know what to say.
Sipping at my lemonade,
Gazing down at the parade,
Tired of sitting in the shade.
I’m in possession of a rubber soul.
Capitol disc on display in a case on Vine Street one November day;
Elongated heads don’t smile, in a brown & green exile from yesterday
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9. |
Revolver
03:21
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Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—a perfect shell of sky;
Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—curving like my eye;
Summertime is coming ’round, find your trunks, get ready:
Listen to the summer sounds again!
Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—a cracking-egg delight;
Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—right here in black & white;
Summertime is coming ’round, I’m a bit unsteady;
Listen to me come unwound again.
Beaded water on my red paddle-board; watching the sun climb;
Universe and me in perfect accord; thinking about lime popsicles,
Coppertone, radio on a far shore; drops on my lashes magnify the cell and
foretell a future I can hardly comprehend, each one like a crystal ball;
Something fearsome yet compelling they portend,
Something bringing change to all.
Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—the end is coming soon;
Revolver, revolver, revolver, revolver—behold a pale moon;
Green translucent fiberglass; swimming party carries
to the Woodman overpass—the end.
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10. |
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Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band—
Playing ’cross the land; it’s getting quite a hand . . .
Please let your mind expand.
I’m standing with a hose, still watering my rows of corn
on a dewy summer morn, my clothes are getting slightly worn;
I don’t understand—something’s out of hand!
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
The kids are getting high; they’re reaching for the sky;
It’s a permanent July;
I’m sitting by a frozen lake, reading about Coleridge, Blake,
Wordsworth, and I cannot shake the feeling,
Don’t know why, something’s gone awry.
Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band—
Meticulously planned, quite literary, and perhaps a trifle bland;
I’ve landed in a coffee shop—maybe Denny’s or IHop,
Reading Time Must Have a Stop;
The moon will soon be manned;
Brave new world’s at hand.
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11. |
Magical Mystery Tour
03:11
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It looks just like a toy for any girl or boy,
So buy it and enjoy it; try not to destroy it;
Through the Gates of Troy it rolls on unsuspected.
Ice-cream sandwiches, rubber balls,
Difficult paintings on the walls;
Nonworking phone booth outside;
Biding time while I endure:
Magical mystery tour.
Back among the stacks of beach balls and the
tracks for Hot Wheels and the racks of plastic army soldiers,
There it stands before me in all of its glory,
Candy-coated story, clouds and stars and rainbows.
Ivy climbing up Spanish walls;
Echoing footsteps in the halls.
Paint all the furniture green,
Then vanilla, then azure.
Magical mystery tour.
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12. |
The Beatles
03:09
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Revolutionary white:
Into blues and outta sight;
Just a number and a name;
Heavy summer’s glad ya came.
George, it does no good to beg:
We will not peg our fortunes to good sense.
George, we’d rather lose a leg than lose a dreg;
We choose not to condense.
Floating irises attest to a basic lack of rest;
Children beautiful and true, the sun is setting over you.
George, it does no good to plead—
We will not heed your worries and your woes;
George, there’s not a single weed among the precious seedlings—
Nothing goes!
The Beatles, the Beatles, the Beatles, the Beatles, the Beatles
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13. |
Let It Be
02:52
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Don’t tell me to let it be: that is not my style;
Change will not come easily, but the fight’s worthwhile.
Everyone loves the balladeer, telling them what they long to hear;
Every good entertainer learns not to raise troublesome concerns.
I’m not suggesting that my protesting makes me more interesting,
But your confections lack introspection: that is my main objection.
Don’t tell me to let it be: that won’t get it done;
Ya think the bastards will agree to give up their guns?
Everyone loves the nightingale, singing its heart out without fail,
Telling a tale of secret woe from far away and long ago.
I’m not pretending I’m not unbending or sometimes condescending,
And my addiction to contradiction might cause a bit of friction;
You’re enterprising, quite compromising—
When were you last surprising?
You’re no fanatic—quite diplomatic—
When were you last ecstatic?
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14. |
Abbey Road
03:18
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Here come the ’70s,
Lying in their beds, a fearful throbbing in their heads,
Wishing they were dead; nobody cares.
Where is that melody?
Where are all those partygoers, flowers in their hair?
Crown my lady fair;
Running hand in hand with you
behind the mansion to the old oak tree, believing we were free.
Abbey Road, Abbey Road.
How could we lose our heads?
How could we lose track of all the threads that led the way back into the day?
Following the unicorn into the forests of the night, we’d stray;
The morning is so gray.
Abbey Road, Abbey Road.
Here come the ’70s,
Lying in their beds, a fearful throbbing in their heads,
Gold has turned to lead; nobody cares.
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15. |
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Every now and then I need to hear the Beatles’ story;
When I’m all alone it keeps me warm—
Tales of glory spin a web around my head;
I’m red with other people’s blood.
Every now and then I need to hear the Beatles’ story;
Given the randomness of my life’s trajectory,
Unadulterated victory is sweet, although not mine.
A girl is making figure-8s;
I’m holding fast to the wall, ’cause it’s all I can do
to keep moving on and not wipe out,
Steering through afternoons of fear and doubt,
Hearing the opening of “Twist and Shout”: it’s a new day.
Every now and then I need to hear the Beatles’ story;
I don’t know when it became participatory;
All the friends I never had so glad to shake my hand—OK!
An ancient house burning down;
Joining the people outside, I confide
that I did not remember any structure there;
Hint of November hanging in the air;
Kids running to and fro, they do not care: it’s a new day.
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Love Camp 7 New York, New York
Like the Kinks and Beatles careening down the Pacific Coast Highway in a Woodie with Captain Beefheart screaming in their ear.
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