Speeg Like a Lennon

The inquiry came to me thuswise: "Why are some of your posts tagged 'Jorking and Labbing'? What does that mean?"

It means, dear friend, that I have read entirely too much Lennon in my lifetime. In his wonderful book of "short writty", In His Own Write (for so it is called, for so it was named), John has a hilarious story called "Randolf's Party", about a man named Randolf (or Randolph, or Rangolf, or Randoff, or Randoob) who wonders why his friends have not come to visit him for the Christmas (or Chrisbus, or Chrispbut, or Chrustchove) season.

The story takes a weird and sudden (or surgeon) twist at the end, and it is here, when his friends arrive, that the key phrase appears (I have bold-typed the phrase in case your eyes are not so strong, and because bold-type makes me feel like I'm really beating the hell out of the keyboard):

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of a surgeon there was amerry timble on the door. Who but who could be a knocking on my door? He opened it and there standing who? but only his pals. Bernie, Dave, Nicky, Alice, Beddy, Freba, Viggy, Nigel, Alfred, Clive, Stan, Frenk, Tom, Harry, George, Harolb weren't they?

Come in old pals buddys and mates. With a big griff on his face Randoff welcombed them. In they came jorking and labbing shoubing 'Haddy Grimmble, Randoob.' and other hearty, and then they all jumbled on him and did smite him with mighty blows about his head crying, 'We never liked you all the years we've known you. You were never really one of us you know, soft head.'

They killed him you know, at least he didn't die alone did he? Merry Chrustchove, Randolf old pal buddy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And there it is. Now you know.

Under the Hood of "Drive my Car"

I recently got the opportunity to explain to my seven-year-old daughter the meaning of the lyrics to "Drive My Car".  She's a naturally curious and pensive child (she once announced to me, out of the blue, "The Beatles say 'she could steal, but she could not rob,' but that doesn't make any sense, because those words mean the same thing"), and she wanted to understand what was really going in this catchy little beep-beep, mmm, beep-beep, yeah tune.

In the process of breaking down the lyrics for her step-by-step, I found myself really getting a fuller appreciation of the biting "bitchiness" of the song's antagonist.  I found myself laughing even as I was explaining the words to my daughter, and thinking, "Wow, this is actually quite a brilliant set of lyrics."

Care to take another look at them with me?

I asked a girl what she wanted to be

And she said, "Baby, can't you see?

"I wanna be famous, a star on the screen,

"But you can do something in between."

"Baby, you can drive my car

"Yes, I'm gonna be a star

"Baby, you can drive my car

"And maybe I'll love you."

Mars obviously has some level of interest in Venus, and is trying to strike up a conversation.  But before he gets a chance to move beyond a few words of inquiry, she steps in and dominates the conversation with an obnoxious amount of prattle.

She's got some serious chutzpah, too.  He hasn't yet indicated a desire to win her heart, much less serve as one of her employees, but that's exactly where she's "driving" this conversation.  

It's this sort of condescending stance, a bit of patronization: "I'll allow you to do my bidding, you lucky thing."  But her bow-down-and-worship-me attitude has nothing to back it up, at least not yet; she only wants to be famous, which means she isn't famous yet, and so has not earned the right to be an overbearing snob.

The final line of the chorus has the most bite, I think: "You can work for me, you can taxi me around town whenever I feel like it, and maybe you'll be fortunate enough to get some love from me.  I might stoop that low, my little servant-boy."

I told that girl that my prospects were good

And she said, "Baby, it's understood

"Working for peanuts is all very fine

"But I can show you a better time."

As we round the corner into the second verse, it seems like Mars might be backing off just a bit: "Thanks, luv, but if I need a job, I know where to find one, I'm not that hard-up."  Her response maintains a high level of passive-aggressive snobbery: "Sure, sure, honey, you go ahead and find a minimum wage job, if that's your thing."  Implied here is the assumption that he couldn't possibly find a career more rewarding than the one she is offering him, that his only other option would be "working for peanuts."

But she realizes she might be losing his interest, I think, and so she sweetens the offer with a teasing little innuendo, a thinly-veiled allusion to the possibility of sexual pleasure: "I can show you a better time."

I told that girl I could start right away

And she said, "Listen, babe, I got something to say

"I got no car, and it's breakin' my heart

"But I found a driver, and that's a start."

Apparently Mars found the sexual tease too hard to resist; he's ready to go, and in fact, he can start "right away!"  And this is where he gets the rug yanked out from under him: Venus began her twisted little seduction based on something she hadn't even achieved yet, namely, the power of stardom.  And now that she's finally gotten him to agree to drive her car - to be her slave-boy and part-time boy-toy - she reveals that she doesn't even have a car!  But that's not even the best part.  The best part is that, even with her charade fully exposed, she still refuses to drop the stance of superiority.  The whole facade has collapsed in on itself, and she doesn't realize it!

The punch-line all comes down to this: You should be my driver because I'm going to be a star someday.  Ok, I'll be your driver.  Actually, I don't have a car, but you should still be impressed by me - I'm a pretty big deal, after all, I have a full-time chauffeur.  Uh, yeah, I know, I'm your chauffeur, remember?  You know you adore me, just admit it.

Clever, clever writing, and so succinct!  Three short verses and a chorus, disappearing into the horizon with a sassy little series of beep-beeps.  

And to think Len-Mac almost threw this one away ...

You Stay High, and I'll Stay Low

"Oh, yes, John Lennon was the one who always wrote bitter, negative songs for The Beatles, and Paul McCartney always wrote the sweet, happy, love songs," said the Casual Observer, clearly unaware of the absurdity of what he was saying.

It's a seemingly prevalent view, though, and it exists for a reason, even if it is slightly misguided and easily dismantled by a look at the facts.

John and Paul.  Yin and Yang.  Pessimist and Optimist.  Dark and Light.  Only, it's not quite that simple, is it?

Granted, John certainly seemed to come across as a bit of an ornery cuss at times; he would occasionally adopt a rather sneering tone in his early interviews, and his own lyrics confess, "I've got a chip on my shoulder that's bigger than my feet."  And on the flip side, Paul always seemed to be ready with a wink, a smile, and a thumbs-up.  Cheery Paul, Dismal John.  Or perhaps not.

The songs themselves tell a slightly different story.  This is what I discovered after an album-by-album review, purposefully looking for examples of "positive songs" by John, and "negative songs" by Paul.  A quick review of the more notable entries, then:

John: Ask Me Why; All I've Got to Do; It Won't Be Long; A Hard Day's Night; I Feel Fine; She Loves You; In My Life; All You Need is Love; Dear Prudence; Good Night; Julia; Across the Universe.

Paul: All My Loving; I'll Follow the Sun; Another Girl; Yesterday; I'm Down; I'm Looking Through You; You Won't See Me; Eleanor Rigby; For No One; The Long and Winding Road.

When the two of them got together and produced more-or-less 50/50 collaborations, they could just as easily write a hand-wringer like "Baby's in Black" as they could a heart-tugger like "Eight Days a Week."  

Even in their solo careers, Macca was just as capable of writing stingers like "Too Many People" and "Dear Boy" as John was of writing "softies" like "Beautiful Boy" and "Woman".

Here's my theory: both songwriters could explore the light side and the dark side, and both of them did, neither one more or less than the other.  But where John seemed to treat his music as an art form, Paul seemed to treat it more like a commercial trade.  When John was feeling down, he let it all hang out and bared his artist's soul with a naked yelp; when Paul wrote something with a bit of bite to it, he still packaged it up with an eye to easy consumption - "yeah, I want to say what I need to say, but I still want you to buy it, luv!", I can almost hear him saying.  Two of his most instantly-recognizable tunes, "Yesterday" and "Eleanor Rigby", are decidedly depressing songs; but they're also highly polished and crafted for maximum marketability.

I think what I'm trying to say is this: John could write a downer of a song, and as an artist, he can reach right out and pull me down with him - and that takes talent.  Paul, for his part, could write a set of lyrics like, "I have had enough, so act your age," but because he sets it to a catchy tune with a disarming "ooo-la-la" background vocal, I end up feeling mostly good about this sad song.  I'm leaving my love behind, I'm going to miss her, but the bouncy bass line goes happily walking along, dum-dum-dum-dum, and "wooooo, all my lovin' I will send to you!", so who cares?  Life is good!

Maybe not.  Maybe it's just me.  But even if I'm wrong, I'm right.