Peeking Behind The Beatles' Curtain
So when Beatles fans like me got a chance to see what really went on when the Fab Four recorded their famous records, excitement came with more than a dollop of wariness.
Mark Lewisohn's The Beatles: Recording Sessions proves the brilliance of rock music's most famous act went far deeper than the grooves of their records. By taking a strict chronological approach and capturing the individual recording sessions day by day and song by song, Lewisohn draws you into the Beatles' unique world, allowing you to see that what made them special was not just what they did but how they did it.
As Lewisohn's account makes clear, the Beatles were a far different band in 1962 than in 1969, and so was their recording studio. In 1962, EMI Studios allowed for two-track recordings of live band performances. Even so, the Beatles were almost not up to the challenge of recording there.
"They had so much duff equipment," Norman Smith, the balance engineer on the Beatles' first session on June 6, 1962, told Lewisohn. "Ugly unpainted wooden amplifiers, extremely noisy, with earth loops and goodness knows what. There was as much noise coming from the amps as there was from the instruments."
The Beatles would dump more than their equipment after that first day. Pete Best was deemed a poor session drummer by producer George Martin and wound up being cut loose by his mates, who didn't apparently like him much anyway. Replacement Ringo Starr was likewise deemed unsuitable at the next session in September; when the band finally recorded something Ringo had to make do with a maraca while journeyman Andy White handled the skins on the Beatles' first Parlophone release, the single "Love Me Do."
Ringo found his footing soon enough. After listening to many hundreds of hours of Beatles sessions, Lewisohn noted how rock-steady the drummer proved to be, working with whatever the rest of the band threw at him and making it sound even better. Something of the same can be said of the studio where they worked.
As the Beatles expanded their sound, EMI Studios simultaneously built up its audio capacity. It's almost a chicken-and-egg thing the way Lewisohn explains it here. By 1965, Martin was overdubbing fresh performances onto existing rhythm tracks, saving time and increasing the band's already burgeoning productivity. The following year, an EMI technician named Ken Townsend invented something called Artificial Double Tracking, which allowed the Beatles to punch up their lead vocals without the effort of singing a second time over a prior performance.
The move from EMI becoming a two-track studio to a four-track studio by the time of the Beatles' 1966 album Revolver was also critical, Lewisohn notes: "Certainly one has to listen very intently to hear Paul McCartney's bass playing on Beatles records pre-1966. But on "Paperback Writer" [a song the Beatles recorded in the same period as Revolver but released separately as the A-side of a stand-alone single] all that changed. In fact, the bass is the most striking feature of the record."
One wonderful aspect of Recording Sessions is the attention Lewisohn pays to studio personnel, men who reported for duty "in ties and suits and white coats," as McCartney recalls here to Lewisohn in an exclusive interview. As the Beatles stayed later and later into the night more often, and well into the following morning eventually, Martin and his team stayed with them, working to help crack whatever audio puzzle the band had set for themselves on that session.
"They half knew what they wanted and half didn't know, not until they tried everything," engineer Ken Scott tells Lewisohn. "The only specific thought they seemed to have in their mind was to be different, but how a song might reach that point was down to their own interpretation and by throwing in as many ideas as possible, some of which would work and some wouldn't."
In addition to covering the technical aspects, Lewisohn also gives you a sense of the social aspects of being around the band's recording sessions. It reminded me of another line from The Wizard Of Oz, "There's no place like home."
From 1962 to 1967, EMI Studios in London's Abbey Road was pretty much their exclusive home, with the exception of a one-shot session in Paris, France. The band seemed to find itself in its sterile yet hospitable confines, creating a workspace for bouncing around new ideas. The more the band worked there, the more exciting a setting EMI Studios became, until by the time of their recording 1967's Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band the studio was transformed into a genuine 1960s "happening," with a cast of hundreds including full orchestra bedecked in clown noses and gorilla paws assembling to record the big finale for "A Day In The Life." It was so much fun, they had everyone over again, this time with live television cameras, to record their new single "All You Need Is Love."
Then, like Camelot, everything seemed to fall apart. First, the band took their act on the road, recording in other studios as EMI failed to keep up with the latest technical advances. Then the band began to splinter. The reasons for this are many and famous, including the sudden death of the band's manager, John Lennon's new girlfriend, and a really bizarre TV special for Boxing Day, but Lewisohn's book also suggests the recordings themselves were becoming problematic, a lot of aimless studio jamming in place of the laser-like focus of old. Here Recording Sessions almost takes on the quality of a police procedural, recording unlovely details from the scene of the crime.
By the time they returned to EMI Studios for good in 1969, the Beatles were on their last legs, and not particularly pleasant company. Lewisohn notes engineers had to be coaxed into working their sessions. Engineer Jeff Jarrett made the mistake of asking George Harrison to turn down his guitar so he could get a better recording. "You don't talk to a Beatle like that," he remembers Harrison responding.
Still, the magic remained intact enough for one final great album, an album that would not only help define the Beatles as the cultural avatar of their era but in effect give their studio a new name. Abbey Road became one of the famous addresses of our time, both as an album and as the eventual name of the landmark studio where it was recorded. EMI Studios would literally as well as figuratively never be the same.
Lewisohn's deep knowledge and infectious enthusiasm for his subject help make this an engaging reading experience for anyone, and utterly fantastic for a Beatles fan like myself. You simply aren't going to get any closer to the magic that was John, Paul, George and Ringo then by opening up this book and playing their music.
As Lewisohn's account makes clear, the Beatles were a far different band in 1962 than in 1969, and so was their recording studio. In 1962, EMI Studios allowed for two-track recordings of live band performances. Even so, the Beatles were almost not up to the challenge of recording there.
"They had so much duff equipment," Norman Smith, the balance engineer on the Beatles' first session on June 6, 1962, told Lewisohn. "Ugly unpainted wooden amplifiers, extremely noisy, with earth loops and goodness knows what. There was as much noise coming from the amps as there was from the instruments."
The Beatles would dump more than their equipment after that first day. Pete Best was deemed a poor session drummer by producer George Martin and wound up being cut loose by his mates, who didn't apparently like him much anyway. Replacement Ringo Starr was likewise deemed unsuitable at the next session in September; when the band finally recorded something Ringo had to make do with a maraca while journeyman Andy White handled the skins on the Beatles' first Parlophone release, the single "Love Me Do."
Ringo found his footing soon enough. After listening to many hundreds of hours of Beatles sessions, Lewisohn noted how rock-steady the drummer proved to be, working with whatever the rest of the band threw at him and making it sound even better. Something of the same can be said of the studio where they worked.
As the Beatles expanded their sound, EMI Studios simultaneously built up its audio capacity. It's almost a chicken-and-egg thing the way Lewisohn explains it here. By 1965, Martin was overdubbing fresh performances onto existing rhythm tracks, saving time and increasing the band's already burgeoning productivity. The following year, an EMI technician named Ken Townsend invented something called Artificial Double Tracking, which allowed the Beatles to punch up their lead vocals without the effort of singing a second time over a prior performance.
The move from EMI becoming a two-track studio to a four-track studio by the time of the Beatles' 1966 album Revolver was also critical, Lewisohn notes: "Certainly one has to listen very intently to hear Paul McCartney's bass playing on Beatles records pre-1966. But on "Paperback Writer" [a song the Beatles recorded in the same period as Revolver but released separately as the A-side of a stand-alone single] all that changed. In fact, the bass is the most striking feature of the record."
One wonderful aspect of Recording Sessions is the attention Lewisohn pays to studio personnel, men who reported for duty "in ties and suits and white coats," as McCartney recalls here to Lewisohn in an exclusive interview. As the Beatles stayed later and later into the night more often, and well into the following morning eventually, Martin and his team stayed with them, working to help crack whatever audio puzzle the band had set for themselves on that session.
"They half knew what they wanted and half didn't know, not until they tried everything," engineer Ken Scott tells Lewisohn. "The only specific thought they seemed to have in their mind was to be different, but how a song might reach that point was down to their own interpretation and by throwing in as many ideas as possible, some of which would work and some wouldn't."
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| Beatles (from left to right) Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, George Harrison, and John Lennon recording a session from their landmark album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1967 at EMI Studios, London. [Photo from http://bohemia.st/tag/beatles/] |
From 1962 to 1967, EMI Studios in London's Abbey Road was pretty much their exclusive home, with the exception of a one-shot session in Paris, France. The band seemed to find itself in its sterile yet hospitable confines, creating a workspace for bouncing around new ideas. The more the band worked there, the more exciting a setting EMI Studios became, until by the time of their recording 1967's Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band the studio was transformed into a genuine 1960s "happening," with a cast of hundreds including full orchestra bedecked in clown noses and gorilla paws assembling to record the big finale for "A Day In The Life." It was so much fun, they had everyone over again, this time with live television cameras, to record their new single "All You Need Is Love."
Then, like Camelot, everything seemed to fall apart. First, the band took their act on the road, recording in other studios as EMI failed to keep up with the latest technical advances. Then the band began to splinter. The reasons for this are many and famous, including the sudden death of the band's manager, John Lennon's new girlfriend, and a really bizarre TV special for Boxing Day, but Lewisohn's book also suggests the recordings themselves were becoming problematic, a lot of aimless studio jamming in place of the laser-like focus of old. Here Recording Sessions almost takes on the quality of a police procedural, recording unlovely details from the scene of the crime.
By the time they returned to EMI Studios for good in 1969, the Beatles were on their last legs, and not particularly pleasant company. Lewisohn notes engineers had to be coaxed into working their sessions. Engineer Jeff Jarrett made the mistake of asking George Harrison to turn down his guitar so he could get a better recording. "You don't talk to a Beatle like that," he remembers Harrison responding.
Still, the magic remained intact enough for one final great album, an album that would not only help define the Beatles as the cultural avatar of their era but in effect give their studio a new name. Abbey Road became one of the famous addresses of our time, both as an album and as the eventual name of the landmark studio where it was recorded. EMI Studios would literally as well as figuratively never be the same.
Lewisohn's deep knowledge and infectious enthusiasm for his subject help make this an engaging reading experience for anyone, and utterly fantastic for a Beatles fan like myself. You simply aren't going to get any closer to the magic that was John, Paul, George and Ringo then by opening up this book and playing their music.
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