Now as to “Frere Jacques”:

Alan, I thought you’d lost your mind this time–but I pulled out the Past Masters 2 CD, put on the headphones, and nearly fell on the floor laughing! I never really knew what that business was–and it’s so absolutely incongrous that who’d imagine it–but it’s as clear as a bell on the remastered disc.

Listening to it again (after a VERY long time), I now appreciate what a howl the vocals–if not the lyrics–actually are. While the Beatles all had distinct voices, there are moments when it sounds as if McCartney is actually doing an impersonation of Lennon, and the falsettos sound like a mad send-up of the Beach Boys. It’s amazing, too, how much they sound like the disco-era Bee Gees, who profited massively from that (often nerve-wracking) sound a full decade later.

“Paperback Writer” and its b-side “Rain” are a watershed in the Beatles career–for better or worse, depending on one’s preferences. In the multi-volumed Beatles Anthology CD, there’s a clip of the group performing PW in Japan–bloody awful, and they knew it. By this time they’d started their audio experimentation–the vocals are multi-tracked, in quadruplicate, if I remember correctly–and thus they could no longer reproduce the sounds of their recordings live. This, along with the stress of constant touring for nearly five years, ended their live performances, with the exception of those before a limited audience at the end of their collaboration (e.g., “Hey Jude” and “Get Back”).

I had recently been considering writing a book chapter on British pop satire from the 1960s to the 1990s. Strange, but I’d somehow imagined that the Beatles were among the great rock satirists, but upon looking for examples I realized that satire wasn’t really their strongest suit. The Kinks and the Rolling Stones were far more adept when it came to it. This is probably one of the more notable examples of Beatles satire, surprisingly written by McCartney. (If one wants “Beatles” satire, one should look to Lennon’s solo albums. And yes, yes, I know–one could offer any number of examples, particularly from the White Album, but from a literary point of view, the satire is generally too obvious, too overdone, or not sufficiently sustained.)

This is pretty good satire, though, and probably the most intelligent lyric McCartney ever wrote, inasmuch as it evinces his awareness of a world outside of the emotions–or, for that matter, himself.

Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this recording, though, is not simply the fact that this is such a radical departure from the group’s previous singles, both lyrically and musically, but that it actually sold so well. I’m not sure that my fellow fifteen-year-olds completely fathomed its meaning, but we were intrigued all the same. (I didn’t hurt that it had a great beat–who says Ringo Starr was not an incredible and innovative drummer?) Still, I don’t think that anyone but the Beatles could have taken such a song to the top of the charts, and I’d argue that it’s compelling evidence of the extent to which they were near-absolute arbiters of style and taste at that time.

Resurrection Watch: 10CC had a crack at this. likewise The Shadows, Herb Pederson, some guy called Paul McCartney, and — of course — Kris Kristofferson. As with other Beatles songs, soundtrack and advertising use is thin thin thin. Likewise, a fairly popular choice on those Beatles Hits Go… [Latin] / [Moog] etc albums. And somehow, part of a Jive Bunny & the Mastermixers medley.

One of my favourites from the Red and Blue albums as a wean, probably because there’s not only a story, but a a story where you have to fill in lots of gaps yourself. and one of my favourites as a nominal adult, for reasons I’d find harder to explain.

The meta-hackwork idea fits pretty well with the piss-taking “Frere Jacques”es in the backing vox. Goes to show how reliable my ears are. I’d listened to the song over and over again, was told about the Frere Jacques, didn’t believe it for a moment, and then went back.