HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GEORGE HARRISON // FEBRUARY 25, 1943

happy (belated?) birthday to beloved @big-barn-bed. the second i saw it was your birthday god herself gave me a mission to pick out paul's most whorish moments for you to enjoy ❤️

the bottles everybody

Happy Crimble from everyone at apple! 🌲✨🎅

On the third day of Christmas....

Points were made

That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

who was more obsessesed? John or paul?

Anon, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. They were both equally obsessed with each other. I’m not a fan of the either or for this reason: If I were to compile a list of the times John or Paul were seeking validation from the other, it would be the exact same quantity and scope. Trust me, I have those posts in my drafts. The point being, the reason why it went so long, far into the late 70s and beyond, is because these two could not for the life of them forget about the other. And not for lack of trying. But the fact remained that they genuinely were so tied to the other, they crossed each others mind on a routine basis. It was inevitable. Gosh, what a pair.

a little brush study with macca!!! and other colorimetric test

Churchill & Lennon

REMEMBERING JOHN LENNON ✰ october 9, 1940. liverpool, uk. // ✞ december 8, 1980. new york city, usa.

Did an animatic to my favorite parts from John and yokos interview with Andy peebles on dec 6th 1980!!

I've been rereading The Beatles' sections of Cellarful of Noise in between re-listening to the episode while I make a ring, and I disagree with Phoebe that “[Brian] also seems to be offering a bit of a mea culpa" in his version of the story, because I don't think there's a way to read this anecdote as anything other than Brian using it as an example of how he messed up early on by showing favoritism, leading to Paul getting upset and himself overreacting and all of them missing a show... and then calming down, them working it out, and Brian picking everyone back up at their homes to play the last show. (Happy ending.)

I mean the thesis statement is, “I have no favorites among the Beatles and this they realize now, but it wasn't always so.”

I have no favorites among the Beatles and this they realize now, but it wasn't always so. A manager dealing with a close-knit foursome has to be as fair as and as cautious as a father of four children. And one night very early in my management of the Beatles this was brought home to me with an unpleasant thump.

It neither acquits nor condemns Paul for being late because the point of the story—bookended by others about the other Beatles—is the different personalities and bumps in the road with each one. (Except George, who he says he's never argued with.)

They're all, essentially, “we can work it out” stories.

The next example is the story of John in the studio telling him, "We'll make the records. You just go on counting your percentages,” and how Brian left the studio afterwards “in a sullen rage” and never got an apology.

"We'll make the records. You just go on counting your percentages." And he meant it. I was terribly annoyed and hurt because it was in front of all the recording staff and the rest of the Beatles. We all looked at one another and felt uncomfortable and John turned away, indicating that there was no apology coming. I left the studios in a sort of sullen rage.

Ringo's anecdote seems worse than Paul's, or at least as bad. (And a train is involved again.)

It was January and the Beatles were due to tackle a country in which —compared to, say, Scandinavia or Germany, they were an unknown quantity. Therefore I was anxious to make a good initial impact. This can be achieved, and the U.S. trip proved it, at the arrival airport.

But fog descended over Liverpool and Ringo Starr could not leave for London to catch the connecting aircraft to Paris. The other Beatles and I and a score of journalists were in London when we heard the news. Naturally I was very disappointed that three Beatles instead of four would descend the steps at Le Bourget Airport in Paris. I telephoned Liverpool and asked Ringo to catch the train so that he could join up in Paris as soon as possible.

He refused, possibly because he believed that a Beatle shouldn't travel by train, and said he would catch the first available plane. I didn't want this because I didn't trust the weather and I said so.

I said, "Ringo, I have never asked you to do anything especially for me before," and he replied: "Oh yes you have. You know bloody well you are always asking me to do things— to see the press, or travel for this or that. I'm not doing it and if you don't like it you can do the other thing." ...

Why was Ringo trying to sabotage Brian?? (Could it be because of Stu?) 🤔

...I was very angry and when, eventually, he arrived in Paris there was quite an atmosphere. But sulking has no place in a group like the Beatles and with just a couple of meaningful looks and a grin, all was well. And, as with other difficulties, a frank talk helped.

But all the little stories end with them understanding each other better and a compliment for the Beatle he's telling a Bump-in-the-Road story about.

Which is, of course, how his Paul story ends:

This was the only time any one of the Beatles refused to play and it could never happen now. But it was not the only time one or more of the Beatles fell out with me. It would not be normal or reasonable to expect four artistic men to glide through life without a clash of views, and although rows are rare, they happen.

So, Brian's takeaway is that “a manager dealing with a close-knit foursome has to be as fair as and as cautious as a father of four children.”

But Lewisohn's takeaway is:

John saw a bigger picture, and it would be surprising if it wasn’t equally obvious, or made obvious, to Brian and George. He likened Paul’s enduring snag with Brian to his other long-standing difficulty: “[Brian] and Paul didn’t get along—it was a bit like [Stuart and Paul] between the two of them.”

Inevitably, this wouldn’t be the only dispute to arise between Brian and a Beatle in their years together, but it is one of the few to be known, and its timing is telling. Brian devoted more than a page to it in his autobiography, saying how “worried, angry and upset” he was.

What?

One of the few to be known except the other two on the very next pages??

John causes Brian to storm out of the studio in a “sullen rage” and with Ringo he was “very angry” and there was “an atmosphere.” But Lewisohn makes it sound like Brian singled Paul out to tell this one story, so it must be a big deal.

I thought I had a very quick point to make, but somehow the moment you start to unravel any part of this you discover it's like a bottomless plate of spaghetti. (I should probably say, “the moment I start to unravel...” but from listening to the podcast I feel pretty confident that I am not alone in this.)

But at some point you just have to cut it off.

💡 🌚

typical beatle romp

individual pieces under cut

The man who was there the day the Beatles broke up

Mal Evans was the Fab Four’s roadie, fixer and friend. Paul McCartney confided in him when the band split, while John Lennon relied on him to guard his life. A new book tells his story

The Beatles’ lingering tensions finally caught up to them during a meeting among John, Paul and George at 3 Savile Row on September 10 1969. As Mal and Neil [Aspinall, who ran the Beatles’ company Apple Corps] observed, John took particular issue with what he perceived as Paul’s megalomania, saying that, “If you look back on the Beatles albums, good or bad or whatever you think of ’em, you’ll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it’s you! For no other reason than you worked it like that.” For Mal, the conversation must have been pure agony. He idolised Paul, who bore the brunt of the meeting’s vitriol.

In his own defence, Paul protested that he had “tried to allow space on albums for John’s songs, only to find that John hadn’t written any”.

With the idea of recording a new album seemingly off the table, John suggested that they produce a Christmas single instead. After all, he reasoned, their annual holiday fan club record would be due before long. When this idea was met with silence and indifference, John soberly concluded, “I guess that’s the end of the Beatles.”

As horrible as the experience must have been for Mal, panic hadn’t set in just yet. During the past 15 months, Ringo and George had quit the band at various times, only to be coaxed back. But ten days later it all spilled out again at a meeting at Apple. Mal and Allen Klein (their manager after the death of Brian Epstein) were there, along with Yoko, Neil and the boys. For his part, George was on speakerphone from Cheshire, where he was visiting his ailing mother. The topic at hand was a new agreement with Capitol, which Klein was understandably eager to ink.

As Mal observed, Paul began to enumerate the group’s upcoming opportunities, including a series of intimate gigs and a possible television special. In each instance, John said, “No, no, no,” before telling Paul, “Well, I think you’re daft.” Eventually, he blurted out that he wanted a “divorce”. “What do you mean?” a stunned Paul asked. “The group’s over,” John replied. “I’m leaving.”

At this point, Paul recalled, “Everyone blanched except John, who coloured a little, and said, ‘It’s rather exciting. It’s like I remember telling Cynthia I wanted a divorce.’ ”

Afterwards, Mal and Paul returned to McCartney’s home, where they retreated to the garden, still trying to process what had transpired. Paul remained hopeful that John might change his mind, that the Beatles would continue unabated. But Mal knew better. As with George, Mal had reasoned that “all of them had left the group at one time or another, starting with Ringo’’. But when “John came into the office and said, ‘The marriage is over! I want a divorce,’ that was the final thing. That’s what really got to Paul, you know, because I took Paul home and I ended up in the garden crying my eyes out.”

That night with Lennon and Phil Spector in 1973, when happiness was not a warm gun

Mal took great pleasure in spending long hours in John’s company, enjoying the Beatle’s undivided attention, as opposed to sharing him with Paul, George and Ringo. “It was fascinating,” said Mal, who by this point was living in LA and writing his own songs, “because John was talking to me like I was a songwriter, and that was incredible. For the first time, John and I really communicated, whereas, when it was the four of them, John was always the hardest to talk to. I always thought that when John stopped insulting me, we had fallen out as friends.” But, he added, referring to John’s teasing, “The more he likes you, the more he takes the mickey out of you.”

Yet, as Mal soon discovered, working with John during this period would prove to be a chore — incomparable, in fact, to their touring years together, when the Beatles were often confined to the relative safety of a hotel suite. When he was in LA, John could often be found at the Sunset Strip’s Rainbow Bar and Grill, which had emerged as his de facto headquarters [during a period of heavy drinking which Lennon ironically referred to as the Lost Weekend but actually lasted 18 months.] With musicians like John, Harry (Nilsson), Ringo, Keith Moon, Alice Cooper and Micky Dolenz adopting the Rainbow as their regular watering hole, they had taken to calling themselves the Hollywood Vampires, a nickname that evoked the night hours they spent guzzling hooch in the bar’s loft space.

On one of his most harrowing evenings in Los Angeles, Mal had accompanied John and Phil Spector to the Rainbow. At one point, John walked Phil to his car, assuring Mal that he would return shortly. “About a half hour goes by, and I start worrying and go outside looking for John — no sign,” Mal later wrote. “I’d lost track of a Beatle for a day. What had happened, I found out the following evening, was that when he’d seen Phil off, a few hippie fans of his took him in tow, and John, who had just moved into a flat, couldn’t remember the address, nor his or my phone numbers. [John] eventually turn[ed] up, but not before I’d had a few irate words from Yoko, who phoned me from New York shouting, ‘I thought you were John’s bodyguard — why don’t you guard his body?’ ”

At a loss for words, Mal admitted that “I never really thought of myself as a bodyguard to anybody, but I suppose over the years that had been part of the gig. Anyway, they were all grown up, with very strong minds of their own as to what they wanted to do, and I certainly didn’t expect them to hold themselves accountable to me.”

That December, as work on Back to Mono proceeded, John and Phil shifted their project to the Record Plant West. The change of recording studios had everything to do with John’s and Phil’s antics having gotten them evicted from their previous studio, A&M. At one point, Nilsson and Moon, in a drunken stupor, had urinated onto the recording console, leaving the electronics in an ungodly mess.

Things began innocently enough after John and Phil completed their December 11 session at the Record Plant West, where they took a pass at Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me. As Mal looked on, the two men, drunk to the gills, were horsing around the Las Vegas Room. In a nod to the early days of Beatlemania when the Beatles would climb on Mal when they heard they were at the top of the charts, John decided to hop onto Mal’s back for a piggyback ride. Unfortunately, Phil opted to get in on the act, too. Mal’s physical dexterity in late 1973 was a far cry from that of the early 1960s, and he had difficulty sustaining the weight of two men atop his aching back. As always, Mal observed, “Phil goes a little too far,” and in the ensuing ruckus, “he karate-chopped me on the nose, my spectacles went flying, and I got tears in my eyes I can tell you. I turned around with a real temper and told Phil, ‘Don’t ever lay another finger on me, man.’ ”

And that’s when Phil, “maybe to re-establish himself in his own eyes”, Mal thought, pulled out a handgun. To the roadie’s surprise, the producer “fired it off under our noses, deafening us both, the bullet ricocheting around the room and landing between my feet”.

John was understandably incensed, exclaiming to Phil, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, but don’t take away my hearing — it’s me living!”

Until that moment, Mal and John had believed that Spector’s handgun was a toy. At one point earlier in the evening, Phil had cocked the trigger and aimed the weapon at John’s head. As a result of the incident in the Las Vegas Room, “John’s fear of guns generally was doubled.” For his part, Mal vowed to stay clear of Phil. He would attend the recording sessions in deference to John, but that was it.

In nearly the same instant that Mal decided to banish Phil from his world forever, he and John were hustled off to [co-founder of the Record Plant] Gary Kellgren’s house for a lavish going-away party in honour of Mal, who was preparing to make his return to Sunbury. For the occasion, Phil had arranged for Mal to receive “a beautiful large cake, which must have measured four feet by three feet, so nicely decorated with a large bottle of Napoleon brandy, [and] a lot of comic figures like Superman and Batman,” Mal wrote. The sumptuous dessert was inscribed, “To Mal, my pal, love, Philip.”

As it turned out, the madcap producer’s greatest gift to Mal that night came in the form of his absence. “Phil, to show the most understanding side of his nature, did not come to the party,” said Mal. “He knew if he had, he’d be outrageous and spoil it for me. But he set it up and didn’t come — a true mark of affection from a friend.”

The party came to a sudden close, though, when John, having grown blind drunk, planted a telephone into the sticky remains of the cake.

Meet the Beatles: four days in Mal’s life with the moptops

Paul (1962) In July 1962, Mal and his family attended the celebration of the “Wavertree Mystery”, an annual event held to commemorate the anonymous donation of a local playground back in 1895. Mal later recalled that, “Lil and I were proudly pushing Gary in his pram when she turned to me and said, ‘There’s a weird guy over there — keeps staring at us. Now he looks like a real Cavernite to me.’ On turning, I was to see Paul standing there, unshaven, with a denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and chewing on a toffee apple.” After engaging in the niceties of introducing his wife to the scruffy musician, Mal took Paul for a jaunt. “We spent the rest of the day together,” Mal wrote, “Paul and I daring each other to go on things like the parachute drop and other displays that took nerve, neither of us accepting the challenge.” At one point, they stopped in front of an automobile exhibition. Paul announced to Mal that “one of these days I’m going to own one of those cars’’, pointing to one very humble saloon-type car.

George (1962) After shows at the Cavern, Mal would introduce his wife Lily to the rest of the band. “On one occasion,” Mal recalled, “Lil and I bought the fish and chips for the group and ourselves, as they could only muster enough money between them to pay for the teas.” Although she had her misgivings about Mal’s involvement in their lives, she enjoyed getting to know the bandmates. “After gigs,” she later recalled, “George would come back to our house for bacon and eggs. He sometimes came back before Mal to keep me company. I’d be washing baby clothes and nappies or ironing. I liked him the best.” Lily fondly remembered the time she pushed the bangs from Harrison’s face, saying, “Let’s see what it looks like with your hair back. I like that better.” But George wasn’t having it. He combed his hair forward, telling her, “That’s the way I have to wear it; it’s the Beatle cut.”

Ringo (1965) Driving up the M1, Mal and Ringo stopped at a roadside café for lunch. “We were sitting at the counter,” Mal recalled, “and the chap next to me had obviously been trying to make up his mind whether it really was Ringo with me. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t care if it is him or not.’ Ringo nearly choked with laughter as I teased the fellow, saying, ‘No, it’s not him. But it gets terribly embarrassing taking him anywhere because everybody mistakes him for Ringo!’”

John (1964) John held no illusions about the Beatles’ behaviour, later admitting that, “We were bastards. You can’t be anything else in such a pressurised situation, and we took it out on Neil and Mal. They took a lot of shit from us because we were in such a shitty position. It was hard work and somebody had to take it. Those things are left out, about what bastards we were. F***ing big bastards, that’s what the Beatles were. You have to be a bastard to make it, and that’s a fact. And the Beatles were the biggest bastards on earth. We were the Caesars. Who’s going to knock us when there’s a million pounds to be made, all the handouts, the bribery, the police, and the hype?”

During a flight to Massachusetts for the September 12 show at the Boston Garden, Mal’s long-standing feelings of intimidation around John came to a head. Sitting at the rear of the plane, he broke down in tears, telling a reporter that “John got kind of cross with me — just said I should go f*** off. No reason, ya know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” In many ways, it was as if Mal’s lack of self-confidence, a key aspect of his persona for the balance of his life, had returned with a vengeance. Later John approached Mal and embraced him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark £25), published on November 14.

(source)

Footage from interviews for The Beatles Anthology EPKs, and Today Tonight (Australia), 1995. Courtesy of YouTube. “It’s just some little magic that… you know, when you get certain people together, it produces — you know, it makes fire.” - George Harrison, EPK interview Q: “One of the songs, ‘Free As A Bird,’ that John recorded on mono. He’s playing the piano. How difficult was it melding the three surviving Beatles with John?” George: “Yeah. It was… it just took a little time, really. It was pretty tricky, because what we did was, at first, we took his cassette… because it was only a demo, and it was unfinished, it kind of — he was just plodding along and in some places he’d go quicken up a bit, and some places he’d slow down. And we put all the backing in, did all the singing, and Paul and I wrote some words to the middle part that John had never finished. And we did the totally new record, in fact. And then we just took his voice, and we dropped it in, every line where we needed it, until we built up, you know, the lead vocal part.”Q: “Sean Lennon said it was spooky having a dead guy as lead singer. Did you find it spooky?” George: “It’s not, it’s not spooky, but… if, I don’t know if this has ever happened to you — if you think that, you know, we all, when we’re alive, when you hear our music, you hear our voices, but the moment somebody dies, it’s suddenly eerie, you know. Whether it’s John Lennon or Ayrton Senna. You know, just the idea, when you hear him speak, it suddenly is… is very emotional.” - Today Tonight, 1995 “One of the things that’s a little bit heartbreaking is that the player at the end, the ukulele player, banjo, whatever you want to call it. George wanted to play that part and I resisted, saying that if I put him in I’d have to put some of the other Beatles in. I didn’t think we wanted to see contemporary Beatles in the piece. So I said, ‘No, no, no,’ and he said, ‘Okay.’ Thinking they had sampled an archival piece of music, and it turns out that George had actually performed that on the song. Had I known that, I would have let him do it because you only see him from the back anyway. But I’m heart — actually heartbroken about not letting him do that piece, especially now more than ever.” - Joe Pytka (director of the “Free As A Bird” video), The Beatles Anthology special features (x)