Making a case for Mccartney

I finally finished Trickster Makes This World today; my god, anyone who cares about mythology, the process of life (some might call this artistic one, but I lack the authority to do so), buffoonery (the importance of Fyodor Pavlovtich), Negative Space, or the Neil Young classic "Pocahontas" should acquire this tome IMMEDIATELY!

Things that blew my simple mind:
-Hermaphrodite: Hermes + Aphrodite.
-The overlap in the mythology of so many disparate and unique cultures.
-The social parallels that accompany such mythology.
-Elk liver as fake labia.
-Eshu
-Bognesh (Admittedly not in the book, but I've been listening to a lot of Ween recently)
-Loki turning in to a mare, then giving birth to an 8-legged horse.

So, it seems that in the same way James Defronzo describes many notable revolutions of history (that revolution paves the way for reform, and along the way creates a stronger state), so too functions the role of the trickster in society. To quote someone's facebook status I recently saw; Iggy Pop is selling auto insurance, Johnny Rotten's selling butter, what the fuck? The gadfly doesn't want to burn the mother down, because in reality it knows it can do little more than give a jolt of life and awareness to the sedentary cow and will probably get swatted for doing so.

To me this book can be extrapolated in to the realm of Pop music, in particular the epitome of Pop, The Beatles. It is noted by many critics, allmusic.com being my primary source, that Paul Mccartney penned many send-ups through his tenure with the group; the most explicit examples being "Back in The USSR"'s Brian Wilson inspired harmonies/satirical lyrics towards those early days Beach Boys hits and "Got To Get You Into My Life" featuring a very Stax record like horn section/some indulgent lead vocal work on the part of the previously mentioned. Basically the dude is a huge goofball with serious chops.

Many people look at Paul's immediate post-Beatles solo work as the weakest contribution of the three songwriters in the group. Perhaps, then, it's no coincidence that he produced his own album while Lennon and Harrison opted for 'Let it Be' producer Phil Spector/his 'wrecking crew' to handle production duties. Subsequent interviews concerning the Let it Be sessions have Paul speak in disappointed tones as to how "The Long and Winding Road" lost all of its meaning and power when presented in "Wall of Sound" fashion; it's abundantly clear that Paul would get 'his' way with the releases of the sprawling 'anthology' compilation and the somewhat bizarre, somewhat beautiful remixing 'Let it Be Naked'; the latter being a rather blatant send up to the over the top production employed by the king of Mono.



(Quick Aside: You learn something new everyday, check out Yoko's take on Paul's contributions, followed by this great cut off of 'Imagine')


(Just turn up your sound and read this shit instead of watching this youtube montage)


It's abundantly clear Paul, just like John and George, let his egomania manifest in an occasionally brusque manner; it's just that, unlike the other two, he elected to use his songs as a vehicle for expressing this. This has led to numerous conversations, as early as high school, where people have expressed distaste for the bass-playing pretty boy; every music fan I've ever talked to has at least one 'what if' concerning the fab 4 (a real misnomer when you consider Sir George Martin's contributions, let alone those of the late, great Billy Preston).

This relates to Lewis Hyde's excellent book on several potential levels, but here I think it is best to express the notion of shame or, perhaps better, embarrassment. By making such blatant send-ups; by stealing the 'fire' of a stax horn stab or rearranging the opening lead guitar part of Bob Dylan's '4th Time Around' on 'She's Leaving Home', he's, on some level, reenacting Prometheus' journey to the lair of the gods.

Making bajillions of dollars and doing whatever you want with your life isn't quite the same outcomes as having a freshly grown liver violently plucked out by an Eagle everyday while you lay paralyzed (this is what I'm talking about with the DeFronzo corrolary; Paul made bank of being a bastard, and helped usher in a new status quo), but I digress; these pastiches serve to remind us that brilliant pop music does not arrive out of thin air. They also add transparency to the artistic process itself, and as they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

In the case of Phil Spector, Mccartney's blatant distaste and disagreements over how to convey a message do nothing but increase the chances that someone who hadn't heard a Phil Spector produced song, an impossibility, will then seek one out. By attempting to bring shame to his name, he is, in a way, helping to raise Spector's work on other projects by comparison. Paul's clownish façade serves as an intriguing foil to the emotional, personal opuses that Spector had a filthy hand or two in creating.

The same goes for the seriousness in which Lennon seemed to regard his artistic contributions, for this reason, when he goofed around it was always funnier than Paul could ever try. Similarly for George Harrison, who took full advantage of his artistic freedom and never seemed to get too mired down in his previous post as the youngest one who could play guitar and sing real nice.

All this said, all the blathering nonsense I could get out before I go shoot around on this lovely January afternoon, it's not surprising that Paul wrote the words to a border-line gothic number like 'Eleanor Rigby'; the complexities of such prolific songwriters cannot be distilled in a single post, rather, I thought this was an interesting way to explore some points brought up in Hyde's book about why Tricksters are so important, and how Mccartney has strong elements of tricksterdom in his works.

What are you running from?

When I consider just what it is that separates all the greats from the also-rans, I hope to look past the notion that luck is the major contributor. We make our own circumstances just as those situations we put ourselves define how we shall act.

Let's talk about Wonderwall Music, considered by many to be the first "Solo" Beatles album.

George Harrison was asked to score the soundtrack for a film that centers around a man's fixation with a couple who live in the flat next door that he can view through a hole in the wall.

The result is a sort of zygote of what would come to fruition on his future contributions to both The Beatles and in his impressive solo career. You can sense that Harrison lacked a proper outlet for his ideas, being that the Lennon-McCartney hegemony relegated him to outsider status when it came to what actually got released as Beatles tracks. Harrison has always been tabbed as a series of contradictions; the most spiritual, but (I'm not quite sure how one might go about measuring the egos of the biggest names in Pop music history, but I'll just say it for the sake of sounding academic) the most egotistical, and perhaps material member of the group.

I mentioned in my last post that this album dropped in 1968, a great year to go unheard with the abundance of great releases. This album is particularly obscure in the sense that Harrison does not actually play on a single track, rather, a mixed bag of Indian and British session musicians play his arrangements.

There are some very interesting tracks that manage to successfully blend the two unique sounds, but in comparison with tracks like "Within You Without You" and "Love You Too", there is nothing particularly groundbreaking going on here. That said, the musicianship is absolutely splendid.

You can find a high quality copy here.

Love you all.