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Ten Beatles Songs About Driving and Riding Vehicles

Is there a subject for a song that Beatles never covered? They sang about Lady Madonna, Nowhere Man, Fool on the Hill, and This Boy. They composed songs about Lovely Rita, Michelle, Eleanor Rigby, and a Day in the Life. Their guitars wept, and the mighty foursome rolled over Beethoven while the crowds of their fans twisted and shouted in ecstasy.

Have we realised, though, how many songs Beatles had written about driving or riding (flying and sailing) different vehicles? No, it is not just the famous Drive My Car. For all you Beatlomaniacs out there, this is a recap of Beatles songs on the subject of driving.

1. Back in the USSR. A very quick commemoration of the fact that, to get to the (now former) USSR, one needed to take a plane. “Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC… On the way the paper bag was on my knee, Man I had a dreadful flight”. You still need to take a plane to go to Russia from Miami. We hope the quality of flights has improved, though.

2. Penny Lane. Under the blue suburban skies there once were “a banker with a motorcar” and a fireman who liked “to keep his fire engine clean”. Oh yes, there were also a barber and a nurse, but apparently they had no memorable vehicles to them.

3. A Day in the Life. In the middle of the song John Lennon’s character “made the bus in seconds flat”. Before that, though, the character got to see a film and to read a story. The story from the newspaper was rather gruesome. It was about a man “who made the grade”: “he blew his mind out in a car. He didn’t notice that the lights had changed”. Next time you decide to speed up, remember this song.

4. Lovely Rita. Not sure Paul or John would be particularly impressed by the modern meter maids, especially since so many of them are guys and not really approachable either. But back in 1960s it was so much more different. Even though a girl looked “like a military man”, she agreed to a dinner, paid the bill (!), and even brought the guy home to sit on a sofa “with a sister or two”. This is when you begin to regret the passage of time.

5. Ticket to Ride. The song is packed with motion verbs: “the girl that’s driving me mad is going away, she’s got a ticket to ride”. It doesn’t get better than this…

6. Day Tripper…. unless you consider the phraseology of this song. If you are unaware of “day tripper” as the reference to drug addiction, then the song is a story of a carefree girl who nearly drove the guy mad (and then took a ticket for a Sunday drive). If you know about the other meaning of being a day tripper, then there is evidently much more to the song.

7. Yellow Submarine. This is a story about inspiration: “a man who sailed to sea” told “about his life in the land of submarines” with such gusto that a whole neighbourhood migrated below the waves. And they had all they needed on their yellow submarine. Oh, and an Octopus’s Garden in the vicinity.

8. Taxman. The list of songs about driving and riding would be incomplete without the mention of the notorious taxman. “If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street… if you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet”. So true, so true.

9. Honey Pie. The song’s protagonist was urging his sweetheart to “sail across the Atlantic”, otherwise his position was to get more and more frantic. “Will the wind that blew her boat across the sea kindly sends her sailing back to me?” OK, the Atlantic is actually an ocean… but you could still do with coming back, honey pie.

10. Drive My Car. By far, the most car-related and car-focused Beatles song. A very humorous one, as well. Never mind your own prospects, boy, if you can drive my car, you are in for a fortune. OK, not before I am really famous and with a car, but “I found the driver, that’s a start!

The image of John Lennon’s Rolls-Royce Phantom V is courtesy of Beatlemania.ca. The article by John Whelan about the car.

The Use of Religious Symbols (Saki, The Easter Egg)

The symbols of our religious festivals aren’t as innocent as we’d like them to be. Recently the State Russian Museum in St Petersburg exhibited the works by Yuri Khrzhanovsky, a Russian artist. One of the paintings was “The Ode to Joy”, which depicts two extraterrestrial characters, one of whom is playing a guitar. If you look closer at the image, you’ll see that the guitar is made of a Cross and a Wreath. The Cross is also repeated in the painting itself, and the picture has been criticised by one of the museum’s researchers as “the ode to blasphemy”. I suppose here in the West the story of “blasphemous” Christian images that had some grains of truth in them is age-old, and one only has to remember the immortal saying by John Lennon, that Beatles were more popular than Jesus. Bearing in mind the present crisis in religious mores, he couldn’t be more right, even if it came at a cost at the time.

Speaking of Easter Eggs, they were an inspiration to some, like Peter Carl Fabergé. There is a Wikipedia article about the awesome Easter Eggs he produced for the Russian Imperial Family, with information about almost all of them. Many of the eggs are now on display at the Kremlin Armoury, and if you’re planning a visit to Russia, absolutely include a trip there (consider the Kremlin as the Russian analogue to the Tower, especially because there is also a Diamond Fund, which only rivals the British Royal Jewellery Collection at the White Tower).

But Saki painted a rather gruesome story in The Easter Egg, which you can read in full if you follow the link. In the story the egg was used to carry out a terrorist attack, and it certainly reads as a rather humorous story, thanks to Saki’s style.

“It was distinctly hard lines for Lady Barbara, who came of good fighting stock, and was one of the bravest women of her generation, that her son should be so undisguisedly a coward. Whatever good qualities Lester Slaggby may have possessed, and he was in some respects charming, courage could certainly never he imputed to him. As a child he had suffered from childish timidity, as a boy from unboyish funk, and as a youth he had exchanged unreasoning fears for others which were more formidable from the fact of having a carefully thought-out basis. He was frankly afraid of animals, nervous with firearms, and never crossed the Channel without mentally comparing the numerical proportion of lifebelts to passengers. On horseback he seemed to require as many hands as a Hindu god, at least four for clutching the reins, and two more for patting the horse soothingly on the neck. Lady Barbara no longer pretended not to see her son’s prevailing weakness, with her usual courage she faced the knowledge of it squarely, and, mother-like, loved him none the less.”

It all changed on the day when the Easter Egg was to be presented:

“The next moment Lester was running, running faster than any of those present had ever seen a man run, and–he was not running away. For that stray fraction of his life some unwonted impulse beset him, some hint of the stock he came from, and he ran unflinchingly towards danger. He stooped and clutched at the Easter egg as one tries to scoop up the ball in Rugby football.”

So, a Cross for a guitar, and an Easter Egg for a terrorist attack. Not that we thought that religion was all about peace, did we?

Llandudno Diaries – 3

I arrived to Llandudno at about 5pm on Friday, 28th of December 2007. The wind and rain met me at the station, as well as two lines of taxis, with no drivers inside. Turned out, my train arrived earlier, and the drivers were all away to shops. I joined an elderly gentleman and a family couple at the taxi office. By the time I was on my own, we started talking with the lady in the reception. Turned out, she was quite familiar with Manchester: she was a part of the Jewish community who regularly travel from Llandudno to Salford. Then my taxi arrived, and a few minutes later I was in Craig-y-Don where I were to stay until January 6th 2008.

Craig-y-Don means “rock by the water”, and Dave Thompson tells us in his illustrated book about Llandudno that this area became popular with residents after the First World War. On the first walk “into town” when I don’t actually know yet where to go, the place seems to be quite far away from the town centre. But as you get to discover all the different ways to get from Craig-y-Don Parade to Trinity Church in Mostyn St, you’ll soon realise that it doesn’t actually take that long.

Llandudno itself boasts a remarkable history. The origins of the place date back as early as the Bronze Age, and the remains of the Bronze Age Copper Mines located on the Great Orme is a great tourist attraction, allowing you to explore 250ft below the surface. There, on the Great Orme, is also the church of St Tudno. The church takes its name from the site of a small monastic community founded by the Welsh Christian missionary in the 6th c. AD. I haven’t visited it, but Thompson notes that the church “still has some ancient features within it including a splendid twelfth-century font”.

The fate of Llandudno was apparently determined by the Liverpool Architect Owen Williams in 1840s. The image on the left is that of The King’s Head where Williams reportedly remarked that this bay area would make an ideal watering place. His words were related to The Hon. Edward Mostyn MP who had already had plans to exploit the area of Llandudno as a potential summer resort. Some time before Williams’s prophetic remark Lord Mostyn, with the support of the Bishop of Bangor, was able to obtain through the Parliament “the sole rights to develop the low isthmus between the north and west shores”. Williams was commissioned with the survey which, when completed, presented Llandudno as a lovely seaside town, “shaped with a grid of spacious thoroughfares and a sweeping promenade”.

Although it wasn’t Williams who undertook the final planning and building, the progress of Llandudno was compelling, given its unrivalled popularity with the masses, the royalty, and the men-of-arts. It is still disputed whether or not Lewis Carroll visited Llandudno, but even without him there are enough names among Llandudno’s patrons to make any other town of its caliber blush with envy: Napoleon III, Disraeli, Gladstone, Bismarck, to name but a few. The Queen Elizabeth of Roumania, who wrote under the pen name of Carmen Sylva (commemorated in the name of one of the streets in Craig-y-Don), stayed here for five weeks in 1890. Buffalo Bill came here with his Wild West Show in 1904. The Beatles performed at The Odeon in Llandudno in 1963, and the last person to ever appear on the Odeon’s stage was Billy Connolly in 1986.

For references, I am indebted to Dave Thompson’s Llandudno (Images of Wales series, Tempus, 2005).

To be continued…

Liverpool 2008 – Beatles Playlist

I’m back in Manchester. I’ve been back since Tuesday, but caught cold, which is the reason why on the day when Liverpool gets initiated as the European Capital of Culture for 2008 I’m sitting at home in Manchester instead of heading to St George’s Hall to watch the opening gala. However, I watched the BBC North West Today report from Liverpool, and the general feel I have taken away from it was that the pressure on the legendary city comes from two directions. On the one hand, all eyes are on Liverpool to perform at the level no lower (or even higher) than Glasgow. On the other hand, the year of culture is naturally expected to last longer than just 12 months, and the expectations are particularly high as far as the benefit of the culturally and socially disadvantaged communities and areas is concerned.

As a Beatlemaniac who’s been living in Manchester in the past four years, I am first of all sincerely pleased for Liverpool for its 2008 status. I can also say now that one thing that has always perplexed me in these years was this rivalry between Manchester and Liverpool, and for once I hope this bickering, however amicable, will be put aside, or left behind altogether. As someone genuinely impartial, the last thing I want is to stare at articles counting Liverpool’s hick-ups. The hick-ups are inevitable, guys. Let’s focus on the fact that for the whole of 2008 the attention will be drawn not only to Liverpool, but to England’s North West. The capital is now up north, as far as culture is concerned, and that is already a big win.

And yes, the theme that ran in the background but didn’t feature prominently was the status of Liverpool’s culture. We know what it was, and Ringo Starr is headlining the opening night this evening. But what is the state of culture now?

Just as I was thinking about it, having finished watching TV, I checked my email and found there a song sent by one of the friends. It was Brian Eno’s How Many Worlds. I started listening to it, and the opening sounded like an up-tempo opening to A Day in the Life by the Beatles. After that I spent some time browsing through the Beatles’ songs, when I realised that many comments on Liverpool’s potential to perform as the European Capital of Culture sound very much like “don’t let me down“. And, of course, when we look at Liverpool today we still associate it more with the Beatles phenomenon, – yet however important and long-lasting is their legacy, it unfortunately belongs to “yesterday“, as do the relatively peaceful times of the 1960-70s. How to change that? Well, we talk a lot about hope, faith, understanding, support, culture, but in the end, all the most beautiful things that we often assign to a country’s “culture” are born in love. And if we want to give peace a chance, we’ve got to love it. Be that the bigger world or just the city of Liverpool, to make things work “all you need is love“. That’s a job in itself, but it’s worth trying in 2008. Chances are, you won’t let it go after.

http://media.imeem.com/pl/hmzTTPlIvn/aus=false/

…………………..The picture I took in Lime St Station during a day-trip visit to Liverpool (June 2007).

Luciano Pavarotti

As I was going to work in the morning, there was a small article in Metro about the Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti being in serious condition. A few hours later at work I read on MSN that one of the world’s greatest opera artists died.

There is very little to say, amidst the tributes and obituaries. U2’s Bono said Pavarotti epitomised opera. Undoubtedly, he also epitomised Italy, exuberant and passionate as he was. It is, I guess, because of his immensity – be it physique, talent or life – that millions of people around the world have taken his exit so close to heart. He entered the memory of many as an ever-smiling opera genius, and nothing can fill the void.

Many an opera aficionado will already have passed on their condolensces to the tenor’s family. It is strange to think that, like there would never be any Beatles “comeback” after George Harrison died, so now there are no longer Three Tenors, certainly not in the way we have come to think of them.

The MSN article renders precisely the significance of today’s date for the classical music scene:

In the annals of that rare and coddled breed, the operatic tenor, it may well be said the 20th century began with Caruso and ended with Pavarotti. Other tenors — Domingo included — may have drawn more praise from critics for their artistic range and insights. But none could equal the combination of natural talent and personal charm that so endeared Pavarotti to audiences.

Luciano Pavarotti has embraced his fame after performing Nessun Dorma in 1990 at the opening of the World Cup in Italy. He sang it again in 2006 at the opening of the Torino Olympic Games, which turned out to be his last major performance. This aria from Puccini’s Turandot has always been one of my favourite opera arias. Earlier this year somebody practically anonymous, my compatriot, has sent me in an email a recording of Nessun Dorma as a Christmas present, which I enjoyed a lot. In the video below Pavarotti performs Nessun Dorma in Torino in 2006 (many thanks to supinder for posting this). I cannot describe in words how much or why I love this part, every time I hear it my eyes fill with tears…

Mistaken Identity

Twice this week I went past what could be called “the hairdressers’ mile”. One street entered my memory as having just as many hairdressing salons, as Indian take-aways: every third or fourth building on both sides of the street would be either one, or another.

This made me remember a true story that happened to me when I was a little girl, between 3 and 5 years old. And so to take your attention off my Carmarthen discoveries for a bit, I’ll tell you this story.

When I was little, I sometimes wished I were a boy. My parents looked well after me, which meant that I was never running on my own. I envied other children, mainly boys, who would climb the trees and played active games. I think my grandma was quite protective, but for a good reason: I was a somewhat clumsy child, which resulted in regular bruises on my knees, even though I didn’t run much.

Subconsciously (at that time), I also loved the male 1970s fashion, and especially the way male actors used to dress. Back then I wasn’t familiar with any big names, but think of Michael Caine in Get Carter, Yves Montand, or Marcello Mastroianni, to get an idea. Those men exuded the traits I found attractive, without yet realising it: intelligence, confidence, sense of humour, elegance, to name but a few. I must have seen a few political thrillers, as well, and I adored those male detectives who worked on the most challenging cases. Once, when I and my grandma with her sister went shopping, I decided to imitate a man’s walk. I was 4 or 5, and I was dressed in trousers, so I shoved my hands in my pockets, bent my shoulders slightly forward, and imagined myself being one of those shrewd detectives. Next I heard my grandma, who was behind me:

‘Yulia, straighten yourself, you’re walking like a bloke!’

Obviously, she couldn’t know that that was the idea…

Anyway, one day the unthinkable happened. My grandma took me to the hairdressers. I wore red tartan overalls and a red turtleneck, and my hair had grown well below my shoulders. Back then I used to wear a bob, although without a fringe.

So, we went to the local hairdressers, and my grandma entrusted me to this voluptuous blond lady in glasses, who put a small bench on the chair and sat me on it, because I was still too small. Then she started working on my hair. When she finished, she called for my gran.

I’ll never forget my grandma’s terrified ‘ah’, as she entered the room.

‘How could you lop the girl so short?!’

Indeed, instead of my usual bob, I had a typical Crew cut.

The voluptuous blond lady, undeterred, looked at my grandma, then at me, shrugged her shoulders, and replied:

‘A girl? I thought it was a boy’.

‘But you must’ve seen her hair!’

‘Yes, but she’s wearing trousers, isn’t she?’


Update


So far I’ve mostly been an online recluse. There were a couple of photos that I posted to a couple of public online profiles, but there it ended. However, as I was writing this post I felt so tempted to show you a few of my favourite childhood photos that I asked my mother to see, if she could scan them, as obviously the family album is in Moscow. My mother wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t manage to scan the pictures, for which I am immensely thankful to her. My thanks also go to her colleague Viktor, who did the scanning.

As I said, these three photos are my favourite childhood pictures. They were taken by my father and date back to 1982; on them I’m less than 2 years old. In 1982, my dad would be my age, between 25 and 30, and he loved photography. Together with passion for Beatles, the interest in photography is one of the things I inherited from him. As you can see, he wasn’t content with just one camera, so he had two. The pictures were taken separately, but they do make a nice triptych. :-))

1982 would be the last year when my parents were together, so although I don’t remember anything about when or how these pictures were taken, pictures are special for personal reasons. My father and I have always known each other, and these days we keep in touch by email. From what I gather he doesn’t use his camera as often. So I guess, by the quantity of pictures I take, I do it for the two of us.

I searched YouTube today, oh boy…

This is the Beatles’ Shakespearean skit made in 1964 for the British television. I have had no idea about it until today when I found this video on YouTube, and I am now ever so thankful to debsue, who’d posted it. In two words, it’s incredible and unbelievably talented – as anything that the Fab Four had done. Oh, and – it’s hilarious! Ironically, though, knowing what had become of them by the 1970s, one has to utter:

…never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Futuresonic Memories – 1


Whilst looking for something recently, I came across the Art in Liverpool blog, which in 2005 was chosen the Best British Art Blog by The Times. Bearing in mind that Liverpool will be the European Capital of Culture in 2008, it makes every sense to bookmark the site to keep track of what will be happening there (perhaps, this is what you’re already doing). The site is edited by Ian Jackson, and I was nicely surprised to have discovered that I knew this gentleman – I saw him and his lovely wife in Manchester during Futuresonic 2006 in July. I can’t marvel enough at my memory.

And this is the Christmas message from Ian & Minako

The blog will now be in my blog’s list, as I’m certainly cherishing plans to visit Liverpool in 2008, although I may well do so before. I have been there once, in 2002, looking for The Beatles Adventure, which was quite an adventure in itself. I was going to the city on the day of the firemen’ strike. I was woken up by the radio telling me that an old lady had died in the fire somewhere in Wales. A very uplifting piece of news, as you imagine. And in Liverpool it took me quite a while to find the Beatles Museum. I got eventually to the ‘right’ part of the Albert Dock, where I found myself between two poles with street signs, which both had ‘Beatles Museum’ arrows. The arrow on the right pole was pointing to the left, the arrow on the left pole was pointing to the right. One would assume, of course, that the destination point would be in the middle. In the middle there was a Royal Mail post box.

At the end of this Magical Mystery Tour I did find the Beatles Museum.

John Lennon

 

Yes, it’s yet another anniversary. There is nothing to say, as no words would express everything we feel on this day every year. For me as the fan of both The Beatles and John Lennon it was difficult to gradually realise that this man is no longer here, and that I’ve only got as much as he’d written/drawn/sung/acted, etc., that there will be no more. In fact, there hadn’t been any more for a long while before I even discovered his music.

My history of attending music venues was strangely linked to Lennon and The Beatles. The first *serious* music venue that I attended was a concert dedicated to Paul McCartney’s 50th anniversary. It took place in Moscow, there was no Macca, but before the concert we were treated to a screening of Let It Be. In 1997, when I just entered the University, I saw an announcement on the board about the celebration of John Lennon’s birthday in one of Moscow’s clubs. I went with a few friends. His songs were mixed with some modern performances, of which my memories are still very vivid.

There is his official website, as well as many good fansites across the web. There was recently an appeal to make December 8th The Day of Peace. I think for many people it has already been such for 26 years now (and perhaps even before then) and will remain such for as long as the memory lives. The idea, in the end, is not about commemorating either John Lennon, or peace. It is about making peace happen. And on that there is no-one better to quote, than Lennon himself:

If everyone demanded peace instead of another television set, then there’d be peace.
Sad, but true. As indeed many of Lennon’s songs. I have decided to put up a YouTube video of one of his classics of The Beatles’ period. In part, it is because I did not want to be ‘conventional’ and go for Imagine, which is totally predictable on this occasion. In part, however, I have chosen this song for its utter dramatism in both lyrics and music and – its poignancy. 

…Won’t You Please, Please…

… exactly, HELP ME! Under the workload this is the song that comes to mind, and I found this rare video on YouTube (thanks to modcentric, whose blog you can read). On modcentric’s account on YouTube there is also a wonderful video of the Awesome Four eating fish&chips, while also singing I Feel Fine. The video is called The Beatles Fish & Chips Intertel Video.

Back to HELP, my Irish neighbour, a musician, always says that this song affected him a lot in his youth because it sounded very sincere. As for me, I was introduced to The Beatles by my father, who was (and still is) a huge fan of Paul McCartney. The introduction took place in about 1990, when I didn’t know English half as well as I do now. The first two albums he gave me to listen to were recorded on an audio cassette, A Hard Day’s Night on side A, and Let It Be on side B. And I vividly recall trying to log the lyrics of the song I Me Mine, literally pressing my ear against the tape recorder. Like I said, I knew very little English then, which is why I couldn’t make out most of the song.

Of course, I listened to a lot of music during my school years, but The Beatles have had the decisive influence. I was the best pupil in my year, and everyone thought I spent days and nights studying. Little did they know that I used to do away with my homework as quickly as possible, sometimes even forgetting about it and leaving it until late in the evening. What I did instead was turning the tape recorder on as soon as I’d get home from school. There is no wonder therefore that I knew all Beatles’ albums by heart by the time I went to the University.

However, my favourite Beatle has always been John Lennon. I loved his talent, his music, his lyrics, his appearance, and that has never had anything to do with the fact that I was born on December 9, 1980. [My looking all over Moscow for round specs did, though]. I do regret slightly that Imagine has become so popular because, I think, people occasionally begin to take it as a commonplace. And, yes, there is a lot of idealism about Lennon, but now and again I find myself thinking things many people would not share. So, in his words, ‘you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one‘.

Anyway, enjoy the movie, and I’ll get back to my work…

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