Beatles (50 page)

He meant the weather, but the phrase made him smile because it was one of Jimmy Nichols’s phrases, one which they used to mock all the time in Australia.

When Ringo was once ill and unable to play, Jimmy Nichols deputised for him on part of their Australian tour. Every time one of them asked Jimmy how he was getting on, if he was liking it and was he managing OK, all he ever replied was ‘It’s getting better.’

That day at two o’clock, when John came round to write a new song, Paul suggested: ‘Let’s do a song called, “It’s getting better”.’ So they got going, both playing, singing, improvising and messing around. When the tune was at last taking shape, Paul said, ‘You’ve got to admit, it is getting better.’

‘Did you say, “You’ve got to admit, it’s getting better”?’

Then John sang that as well. So it went on till two in the morning. People came to see Paul, some by appointment. They were left waiting downstairs, reading, or were sent away. They stopped once for a meal, a quick fry-up.

The next evening, Paul and John went to the recording studio. Paul played the new song on the piano, la-la-ing the accompaniment or banging in tune to his words, to give the others an idea of what it sounded like. Ringo and George said they liked it, as did George Martin.

The first stage in the layer cake system that they now use in recording songs was to get the backing recorded on one track.

They discussed what the general sound would be like and what sort of instruments to use. They also chatted about other things. When they got bored, they went off and played on their
own on any instruments lying around. There was an electronic piano in the corner of the studio, left over from someone else’s recording session. Someone doodled on it and it was decided to use it.

Ringo sat at his drums and played what he thought would be a good drum backing, with Paul singing the song to him in his ear. Because of the noise, Paul had to shout in Ringo’s ear as he explained everything.

After about two hours of trying out little bits and pieces, they had the elements of a backing. George Martin and two studio technicians, who’d been sitting around just waiting up until then, went up into their sound-proof glass control room, where they continued to sit around and wait for the Beatles to get themselves organized.

Neil and Mal got the instruments and microphones arranged in one corner of the studio and the four of them at last started to sing and play, ‘It’s Getting Better’. Ringo looked a bit lost, sitting slightly apart on his own, surrounded by his drums. The other three had their heads together over one microphone.

They played the song over about ten times. All that was being recorded, up in the sound-proof box, were the instruments, not their voices. From time to time, Paul said ‘Once more, let’s try it this way,’ or ‘Let’s have less bass, or more drums.’ By midnight they had recorded the backing.

The next day John and George assembled at Paul’s house. Ringo wasn’t there. They were just going to do the singing track for ‘It’s Getting Better’ and he wouldn’t be needed. Ivan Vaughan, the schoolfriend of John and Paul, was also at Paul’s house. At 7.30 they all moved round to EMI, where George Martin, like a very understanding housemaster, was ready and waiting for them.

The backing for ‘It’s Getting Better’, which they’d recorded the night before, was played over and over again for them to listen to. George Harrison and Ivan went off to chat in a corner, but Paul and John listened carefully. Paul instructed the technician on which levers to press, telling him what he wanted, how
it should be done, which bits he liked best. George Martin looked on, giving advice where necessary. John stared into space.

Dick James, their song publisher, arrived wearing a camel coat. He said hello to them all, very jolly and breezy. He made a joke about there being no truth in the rumour that EMI were buying Northern Songs.

He listened to the backing of ‘It’s Getting Better’ and showed no expression. Then they played him one of their other songs, about a girl leaving home. George Martin said this was the one that almost made him cry. Dick James listened and said yes, it was very good. He could do with more of them. ‘You mean you don’t like the freak-out stuff?’ Dick James said no, no, he didn’t mean that. Then he left.

They played the backing track of ‘It’s Getting Better’ for what seemed like the hundredth time, but Paul said he wasn’t happy about it. They’d better get Ringo in and they would do it all again. Someone went to ring for Ringo.

Peter Brown arrived. He’d just returned from a trip to America. He gave them some new American LPs which they all jumped upon. They played him ‘She’s Leaving Home’ and a few other of the
Sergeant Pepper
songs, already recorded. Then they played him the backing track of ‘It’s Getting Better’. As it was being played, Paul talked to one of the technicians and told him to try yet a different sound mix. He did so, and Paul said that was much better. It would do. They didn’t need to bring Ringo in now after all.

‘And we’ve just ordered Ringo on toast,’ said John. But Ringo was cancelled in time and the studio was got ready to record the sound track, the voices. As it was being set up by Neil, Mal brought in tea and orange juice drinks on a tray.

Paul let his tea go cold while he played with an oscillating box he found in a corner. By playing around with the switches, he managed to produce six different noises. He said to one of the sound engineers that if someone could produce oscillating boxes with the sounds controlled and in order, it would be a new electronic instrument.

They were ready at last. The three of them held their heads round one microphone and sang ‘It’s Getting Better’ while, up in the control box, George Martin and his two assistants got it all down on track. The three Beatles were singing, not playing, but through headphones strapped to their ears they could hear the recording of the backing track. They were simply singing to their already recorded accompaniment.

In the studio itself, all that could be heard were the unaccompanied, un-electrified voices of the Beatles singing, without any backing. It all sounded flat and out of key.

They ran through the song about four times and John said he didn’t feel well. He could do with some fresh air. Someone went to open the back door of the studio. There was the sound of loud banging and cheering on the other side. The door began to move slightly inwards, under the strain of a gang of fans who’d somehow managed to get inside the building.

George Martin came down from his box and told John he would be better to go up on the roof and get some air, rather than go outside.

‘How’s John?’ Paul asked into the microphone to George Martin up in the control box.

‘He’s looking at the stars,’ said George Martin.

‘You mean Vince Hill?’ said Paul. He and George started singing ‘Edelweiss’ and laughing. Then John came back.

In the corner of the studios, Mal and Neil and Ivan, the friend, couldn’t hear the jokes over the headphones. They’d finished their tea. Ivan was writing a letter home to his mother. Neil was filling in his diary. He’d only started it two weeks previously. He said he should have started one about five years ago.

A man in a purple shirt called Norman arrived. He used to be one of their recording engineers and now had a group of his own. The Pink Floyd. Very politely he asked George Martin if his boys could possibly pop in to see the Beatles at work. George smiled, unhelpfully. Norman said perhaps he should ask John personally, as a favour. George Martin said no, that wouldn’t
work. But if by chance he and his boys popped in about eleven o’clock, he might just be able to see what he could do.

They did pop in, around 11.00, and exchanged a few half-hearted hellos. The Beatles were still going through the singing of ‘It’s Getting Better’, for what now seemed the thousandth time. By two o’clock they’d got it at least to a stage which didn’t make them unhappy.

‘MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR’

The tune and all the words of ‘It’s Getting Better’ had been worked out before they got into the recording studio but when they arrived at the EMI studios at 7.30 one evening to record ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ all they had was the title and a few bars of the music.

There was the usual crowd of fans waiting for them as they went in. Not screaming. Just quiet and contrite, like humble subjects, subdued by the presence. As they went in, one girl very shyly gave George a button badge which said ‘George for PM’.

‘Why would Paul McCartney want you?’ said John to George.

Paul played the opening bars of ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ on the piano, showing the others how it would go. He gestured a lot with his hands and shouted ‘Flash, Flash,’ saying it would be like a commercial. John was wearing an orange cardigan, purple velvet trousers and a sporran. He opened the sporran and took out a cigarette, which he lit. Someone shouted that Anthony, John’s chauffeur, wanted him on the phone.

They leaned round the piano while Paul was playing, going over and over the opening. Paul told Mal to write down the order of how they would do the song. In a very slow schoolboy hand, Mal wrote down the title and got ready for Paul’s instructions. Paul said Trumpets, yes they’d have some trumpets at the beginning, a sort of fanfare, to go with ‘Roll Up, Roll Up, for the Magical Mystery Tour.’ Mal had better write that line down as well, as it was the only line they’d got. Paul told Mal to write down DAE, the first three chords of the song. Mal
sucked his pencil, waiting for more of Paul’s inspired words, but nothing came.

The instruments were then set up and they got ready to record the backing, which as usual was to be the first track they would do. John came back and asked Mal if he’d got in touch with Terry yet. Mal said he couldn’t get through to him. John said it was his job to get through. Just keep on until he did.

It took a couple of hours to work out the first backing track and get it recorded. After it was done, Paul went up to see George Martin in the control room. Paul had the track played back to him, again, and again.

Below in the studio, while Paul got the technicians to do things upstairs, George got a set of crayons out of his painted sheepskin jacket and started to draw a picture. Ringo stared into space, smoking, looking very unhappy, which is his natural expression when he’s not talking. John was at the piano, sometimes playing quietly, other times jumping up, pretending to be a spastic, or thumping out loud corny tunes. No one was watching him. He smiled fiendishly to himself through his spectacles, like a Japanese gnome. Neil was reading a pile of
Occult Weeklies
, which they’d all been thumbing through earlier in the evening. Mal had disappeared.

Paul was at last satisfied with the sound of the first track. He came back down and said he thought they could now add a few more things to it.

Mal reappeared carrying a big brown paper bag full of socks, all in bright colours. He passed the bag to John first. He grabbed it in great delight. He chose several pairs of orange terry towelling socks, then passed the bag round for the others to have a dip. The previous night he had said, just in passing, ‘Socks, Mal.’

After the socks had been handed out, Paul asked Mal if he’d managed to get any real mystery tour posters. Mal said he had been round the bus stations all day looking for them. But he couldn’t find any.

They had hoped that some real posters would have given them some ideas for the words of the song. Instead they all tried
again to think of some good words, apart from Roll Up, Roll Up, which was still all they’d got.

As they shouted out ideas, Mal wrote them all down. ‘Reservation’, ‘Invitation’, ‘Trip of a lifetime’, ‘Satisfaction guaranteed’. But they soon got fed up. They decided they would just sing any words that came into their heads, just to see what happened. So they did.

When they’d finished that, Paul decided that on the next track he would add a bit of bass to the backing. He put on the headphones, so that he could hear what they’d done so far, and strapped on his bass guitar. After that he said they should add even more instruments. All of them, Paul, Ringo, John, George, Neil and Mal, then picked up any old instruments that were lying around – maraccas, bells, tambourines. George Martin didn’t play anything, though he has done on many of their records. They all put on headphones and banged and played them to the music.

By two o’clock, they had recorded a basic backing, and had layered onto it a bass track, a lot of shouting and disjointed words, and some percussion instruments. ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ was then forgotten about for almost six months.

The Beatles do seem to record their music in apparent chaos. It is certainly an expensive trial-and-error method, making it all up as they go along. At one time, their songs were recorded at one go and on one track or at the most two. Now it takes at least four tracks, as they continually think of another instrument or effects to add. And when a 40-piece orchestra is used, as in ‘A Day In The Life’, the expense is enormous.

Listening to each stage of their recording, once they’ve done the first couple of tracks, it’s often hard to see what they’re still looking for, as it sounds so complete. Often the final complicated, well-layered versions seem to have drowned the initial simple melody. But they know it’s not right, even if they can’t put it into words. Their dedication is impressive, gnawing away at the same song for stretches of up to ten hours.

Paul often appears to be the leader in all this. This is mainly
because someone has to say it’s not good enough, let’s do it once again. They all know it. But someone has to voice the instructions. Paul does it best, as he’s still the keeny. But they all have a say in any big decisions. When it’s John’s song, he does most of the directing, and the same with George. George, most of all, is in complete charge of his own songs.

The recording of all their songs follws roughly the above pattern. But there is no pattern to the writing and creating of the songs in the first place. That can happen in many ways.

‘The last four songs of an album are usually pure slog,’ says Paul. ‘If we need four more we just have to get down and do them. They’re not necessarily worse than ones done out of imagination. They’re often better, because by that stage in an LP we know what sort of songs we want.’