In Which We Think of Love As Something New

Of All These Friends and Lovers

by DURGA CHEW-BOSE

Mine was not a Beatles family. This is not to say that I didn't know about the Mania and that growing up I hadn't seen the footage of frenzied girls, screaming and losing their minds, or that I too couldn't shake my ponytail, chanting, "Yellow Submarine" like other grade-schoolers at birthday parties. In high school, I was alluding to non-existent nostalgia while listening to the White Album on my Discman, and scribbling the words "Happiness is a Warm Gun" on the dirtied rubber of my friend's Chuck's. But formatively speaking, in terms of music, The Beatles were not the band that my parents had pulled from their LP collection and had sat me down, closed their eyes, bowed their heads, and said, 'Listen...learn.' And so, my relationship with the band gained most of its momentum and devotion later on; Rubber Soul being the most anecdotal album, and a personal favorite.

Heralded as their big jump, their transition from teen pop to more reflective, more deliberate songs, Rubber Soul is a critical album. Its cover, slightly warped and psychedelic, with a pumpkin-colored design spin, was nameless, a first for the group. Their four faces, their four moppy-haircuts were name enough. And though I can appreciate all that made it new—those subversive innovations in recording and production, and the band's movement towards more political lyrics, more drug-influenced persuasions—those aren't the reasons I turn to it, and return to it.

Rubber Soul is an album that I listen to in its entirety. Each song is marked by something to look out for, that enjoyable waaait for it quality. The cleanness of the remaster, the space between sounds and intent, reminded me of those little details.

Take for instance the pleading, listless sway of Lennon's "Girl.” The long, deep breath that repeats throughout is a special, very intimate sound. It's an emotion almost too desperate for words. Or maybe it's just the long, post-toke, exhale? Who knows. Either way, it isn't said verbally; the satisfaction is immediate! I have an image of them performing “Girl” in a neighbourhood jungle gym or children’s park. It’s got the lazy, punch-drunk persuasion of adults who’ve happened upon a swing set or a slide too small. Ridiculous?

Fondness for a song whose theme is the past, whose tone is entirely nostalgic, is an obvious reaction, but "In My Life" is a sentimental homecoming that I’ve always smiled along to. Call it simple, There are places I'll remember, All my life though some have changed, but like those afternoons where I choose to abandon everything and revisit old e-mails, or phone an old friend—the number, despite time, easily dialled as if imparted some unforgettable rhythm—this song too, its cadence, is wistful. The sound is the warmth of a classic television show; the kind they don’t make anymore.

The jingle-jangling "I’m Looking Through You" has a dreamy freewheeling quality to it, like running-away music, like throwing everything into a bag and disappearing with a friend, sitting shot gun and figuring it out later. Despite its excited sound, the tambourine and strumming guitar, the lyrics recall images of salvation and of recognition. The ‘You,’ allows and empowers: a song to sing at the mirror. But sometimes we aren’t listening to the lyrics, and sometimes the song is simply what it was that one year; on a summer mix to play loud with friends while carrying barbecue supplies up the stairs and to the roof. The mix was on repeat and the song played again, maybe twice more, as the sun was setting and the grill was re-lit.

 

"Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" is another song on the album relating an embittered story with a woman: I once had a girl, or should I say, she had me...But as an acoustic song, accented with Harrison’s sitar, one might miss the punch line at the end, where he, the narrator, though based on Lennon’s infidelities, sets fire to the woman’s apartment, because when he awoke, he’d been left alone, this bird had flown. But again, story aside, the curling twang of the sitar was and still is the heart of "Norwegian Wood", marking the group’s shift towards the psychedelic.

Finally: for me, "Nowhere Man" will always be inextricably linked to Holden Caulfield. We had an assignment in school to pair a song with Catcher. This one boy in my class presented "Nowhere Man." As if there were a right answer to the assignment, a golden ticket, he seemed to find it. It was as if in that moment he raised the bar, not just of the assignment, or for that particular English class, but for that time in our lives. Hindsight can sour things, especially our memories of growing up. It can make it all sound overwrought and exaggerated, but if I remember carefully, that was the boy that caused a shift, in all the clichéd but necessary ways.

Durga Chew-Bose is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in New York. She tumbls here.

"I'm Looking Through You" - The Beatles (mp3)

"If I Needed Someone" - The Beatles (mp3)

"Girl" - The Beatles (mp3)

"Wait" - The Beatles (mp3)

"Think for Yourself" - The Beatles (mp3)

"Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)" - The Beatles (mp3)