I watched the Grammy’s tribute to The Beatles on Saturday night and was once again blown away by the legacy of songs in such a short period. It was seven years from their first single to their last and, although there are a number of shockers in the list (Dig A Pony, Yellow Submarine, Revolution 9), they were intensely prolific.
Watching other bands play their songs reminded me of how good the songs really are. Most massive bands have maybe five or so great songs that stand the test of time, and written in twice as long a timeframe. Any band where the third songwriter comes out with Something and Here Comes The Sun is pretty special.
There are so many arguments trying to, in some way, dilute their genius or look for explanations to level the playing field with their peers, but whatever way it’s looked at, it’s genius.
They stopped touring in 1966 so they had more time to write, to create and to produce, but in those 4 years up until 1970, they still produced seven more albums. It’s ridiculous.
Anyway, enough about The Beatles per say, I wanted to speak more about the sun. In England, the big yellow ball in the sky comes out once every blue moon. It’s so rare that our bands write songs about it. We don’t know what to do with ourselves when it’s here. The whole country descends into a spiral of incessant barbecues and outdoors drinking. We can’t help but feel happy all of the time. It’s like giving sugar to a kid with ADHD. If you feel miserable for any reason, a van turns up and official looking people come out and kidnap you.
The reason I’m writing about it today is because it’s here. As a writer, I’m torn between the over-exuberance of SUN and the desperate craving I have to be more prolific. I’d get rid of sleep if that was a possibility but for some reason my body needs a lot of it. What makes it worse is that I live on an island, and the island in question, as islands tend to do, has beaches all around it. In fact, from this very window I can see a beach.
I’m glad I’m editing at the moment because I can justify working on a beach. The iPad was designed for moments like this. I imagine Steve Jobs, in his period before he died, having visions of yours truly stretched out on some sand creating another masterpiece.
So, I’m happy and I’m working today. I don’t want you to worry about me or send assistance, I’ll be fine. As George would say, ‘here comes the sun, and I say, it’s alright.’
Until next time…