A consistent memory from my high school years is driving the roughly 20 miles to school each morning, first in a Celebrity station wagon, then a Geo Metro and finally in my forever car, a 1975 VW Beetle. For much of that time, the soundtrack for those drives was classic rock and roll from the 1960s, and many times exclusively The Beatles.
I loved singing then, and was in numerous choirs and ensembles in school. I would sing Beatles songs loud, sometimes at the top of my lungs, and seemingly always seeking words of wisdom that would guide my inexperienced self in the ways of friendship and love. Sadly, I have forgotten how wonderful it is to sing out LOUD…and to listen to and sing with the Beatles.
A few days ago, Ramona and I drove in my old SUV to visit Mom in the mountains. Ramona ask for music, and the 4Runner only plays tapes and CDs. So I looked through an old high school album of CDs I had on hand for such occasions. I told Ramona I was sorry to not have any kids’s songs and asked if it would be alright to try some music she hadn’t heard before., something from when I was younger.
She said yes, and I started the Beatles “1” album. I immediately started singing. It felt fantastic, but worried it wasn’t Ramona’s cup of tea I inquired: “Want to keep listening to this or try something else?” Ramona said, “This! I like this. And this is my favorite song so far.” She was referring to “I want to hold your hand,” also my favorite when I was a kid.
I had a significant Beatles phase in middle school and into high school. My first CDs I remember listening to included the classic red and blue greatest hits albums and the “Past Masters” CDs. I read biographies and magazines voraciously, collected more music and vinyl albums, and on and on until it all peaked in the late 90s with the music, TV special, books and other paraphernalia related to the Anthology. After that explosion of content, I grew older. Listened to new music. I went to college. By 2000, I bought the “1” album, but probably only listened to it a few times. I had moved on.
I’m embarrassed to admit that listening and singing to the “1” album in the car last week with Ramona was the first time in 20 years that I really heard the Beatles. In what can safely be called an era of COVID, this was some high point in the last 12 months: driving into the mountains with my little girl singing simple Beatles songs. It was pure joy.
And having enjoyed this memory for a few days, I thought I’d share a couple observations:
Singing heals my soul. I forgot just how important singing out loud is to me. It’s restorative, meditative even. I’m resolved to do it more, and with Ramona, too.
Eleanor Rigby is a perfect soundtrack to a period of quarantine. As the BBC describes it, the song is “Often described as a lament for the lonely, or a commentary on life in post-war Britain, it tells the story of a woman who ‘died in the church and was buried along with her name.’” Metaphorically at least, that basically sums up how I feel about much of the last year. I teared up as I sang it, feeling seen by a 1960s Paul McCartney.
Hey Jude is the perfect antidote to a period of quarantine. It’s encouraging as it builds to a powerful crescendo and ends in a celebratory refrain. “Hey Jude, don’t be afraid.” “Take a sad song, and make it better.” It’s obvious, right? But it’s cautionary. Basically, it’s an overly simplistic discussion between two men about a woman. It’s Paul giving advice to John. There’s a great Rolling Stone article from Rob Sheffield at the 50th anniversary of the song that sums it up: Hey Jude was about friendship just before it all blew up. And as I wept, singing a song of hope (got to Mom’s house before Let It Be thank goodness), I wondered if things in our current times were getting better or if we’re still headed down a long and winding road.
My only conclusion at this point is as follows:
1) Sing out loud more.
2) Be thankful for the Beatles whatever comes.
3) Be grateful my daughter likes them.
We can work it out and get it straight, or say good night.
Ben Irwin 