It Won’t Be Long

My son has to learn how to sing.

He already sings pretty well, it’s true. None of his musical friends can carry a tune in a bucket with two handles, and he’s had to sing everything he’s ever performed with others. But he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I have to help him.

I never learned to sing properly myself. I sang quite a bit in the last band I was in. I was awful all the time. Sometimes (rarely) people would compliment me on my singing, and the (very) odd person said it sounded better than my bandmates’ singing. What they didn’t understand was that I was just bellowing out a song they liked better than the others, and because the other fellows knew how to sing, and accompanied me, I sounded better than I was. I was of little to no use to the others when they sang. But I seen my duty and I done it.

My older brother taught me to play the bass. Later, I wanted to learn to play the guitar some, too. He told me to get The Compleat Beatles, and learn all the songs, and when I was done I’d be a guitar player. I never finished, and the book’s out of print now. Oh, well.

Along those lines, I know from experience that if you want to know how to sing, you just need to learn all the Beatles songs and then you’re a singer. It’s how my friends that knew how to sing did it. They were a Beatles tribute band before I met them.

First off, you have to understand that John Lennon had a bad singing voice, and George Harrison was a lot worse than bad. Ringo didn’t have a singing voice of any kind, so there’s no point critiquing it. George, especially, always sounded like he was gargling while being garrotted at the dentist whenever I could pick out what he was doing. And all that was before you factor in the scouse ladled all over the top of everything as camouflage. But.

It’s a BIG but. Those fellows knew how to sing. Someone must have told them to learn the Everly Brothers songbook, even though there wasn’t one back then, and they did. More likely no one told them anything and they figgered it out on their own. Paul McCartney has a pure, high-register singing voice, really rare. But you put it with Lennon’s odd and wonderful counterpoint and slip Harrison’s weird and effective croaking down low interspersed with a hopscotch up high, and it’s as sophisticated as Scarlatti.

Speaking of Italians, as I said, I had to find someone to show my son what I couldn’t: How to sing like the Beatles. My Google-fu is strong, so, I found the two most charming teachers in the wwworld — a world which encompasses both Liverpool and Bologna, of course — Galeazzo and Danilo!

True harmony singing is electrifying. It’s a form of audio alchemy. Disparate elements, perhaps not very valuable on their own, meld in something spectacular. I can’t recall the last time I heard it done in front of me. Good singing is rare.

*** burp ***

(Galeazzo Frudua on YouTube)

The Squeatles!



Glenn Tilbrook of Squeeze still sings for his supper every night.

Late 60s Yin And Yang

Boris Raskin adapted an old Russian song about the “good old days.” The song was popular with folkies in New York, who like to wax wistful about every damn thing. Everything sucks until it’s in the rear-view mirror, and then magically morphs into the bestest time there ever was. Paul McCartney produced the Mary Hopkins version, which was a big hit when I was a little kid. The radio used to be much more diverse than it is now.

Those Were The Days 

Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And dreamed of all the great things we would do

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la…
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Then the busy years went rushing by us
We lost our starry notions on the way
If by chance I’d see you in the tavern
We’d smile at one another and we’d say

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la…
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Just tonight I stood before the tavern
Nothing seemed the way it used to be
In the glass I saw a strange reflection
Was that lonely woman really me

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la…
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh my friend we’re older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same

Those were the days my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way.
La la la la…
Those were the days, oh yes those were the days

About the same time, straight-up cocktail lounge music used to come blaring out of the car speakers, too. Peggy Lee:

Peggy Lee was like your mother’s friend that drank a lot and smoked like a chimney and didn’t care very much if their husband was away on business. She dressed like a cross between Cleopatra and a hat check girl. They were always prying her out of a car wrapped around a tree. She’d yank her elbow away from the policeman like a queen as soon as he propped her up on her tottering shoes. She was nostalgic for a tomorrow that never came.

I loved the music hall vibe of the thing. A novel read aloud:

Is That All There Is?

I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire.
I’ll never forget the look on my father’s face as he gathered me up
in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement.
I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames.
And when it was all over I said to myself, “Is that all there is to a fire?”

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is.

And when I was 12 years old, my father took me to the circus, the greatest show on earth.
There were clowns and elephants and dancing bears
And a beautiful lady in pink tights flew high above our heads.
And as I sat there watching the marvelous spectacle
I had the feeling that something was missing.
I don’t know what, but when it was over,
I said to myself, “Is that all there is to a circus?”

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is.

Then I fell in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world.
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other’s eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day, he went away. And I thought I’d die — but I didn’t.
And when I didn’t I said to myself, “Is that all there is to love?”

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing

I know what you must be saying to yourselves.
If that’s the way she feels about it why doesn’t she just end it all?
Oh, no. Not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment.
For I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you,
when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my lst breath, I’ll be saying to myself:

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is.

That’s a Lieber and Stoller composition. Tin Pan Alley is dead, dead, dead. Back then Randy Newman still needed honest work, and arranged and conducted the orchestra. The whole hot mess is a pretty sophisticated thing to come out of a radio, ain’t it?

Here we are now, entertain us, is a message from the performers to the audience. When I’m the audience I don’t want to do all the heavy lifting, thanks.

Tag: Beatles

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