This widely acclaimed new book begins with a stated hypothesis that John Lennon and Paul McCartney shared a love for each other that transcends run-of-the-mill male friendships – explicitly a “quasi-marriage” – and that this ‘merger of souls’ informed almost everything they did from the moment they first met at Woolton Village Fete in July 1957 until John’s murder in December 1980.
The author evidences this by reference primarily to songs that the two either wrote together or wrote about or to each other across that period. This should make for a fascinating book.
Certainly the dynamic of that relationship and the art that it birthed was central to The Beatles success and it is a relationship that intrigues the die-hard fan; the fan that knows the music and the story inside out and still wants to know more about how the relationships within the band formed, fractured, and ultimately fell apart.
Here we encounter the first problem with ‘John & Paul: A Love Story In Song’. There is little or no original research, there are no new interviews, and no new facts are uncovered. Rather, and the author makes this clear, this book relies upon existing works by other authors to provide a narrative. The result is a rather surface skimming retelling of a familiar story. Anyone who has read even one or two of these existing biographies may find themselves skipping through large sections of the prose here or alternatively becoming side tracked trying to spot which of those earlier biographies provided the specific source for a particular anecdote.
But this basic retelling is there to provide context for the author’s analysis of the inner life of the key protagonists, John and Paul, from that first meeting to that terrible final parting.
It is in relation to that first meeting that we run into a second issue. Given the importance that the author places on that meeting at Woolton fete – that officially mythologised foundational moment when John and Paul first met, and their hearts went ‘boom!’ – it is odd that no time is spent exploring the fact that the pair had in fact met before that day.
Paul himself has said that not only was he aware of John Lennon prior to that day in July 1957, be also that he and John had spoken previously. The author here is repeating a foundation myth that is only partially true. There is surely no excuse for this given the research by Mark Lewisohn in ‘Tune In’, a book which the author cites as a key source. Any Liverpool based fan, and many from further afield, will be able to take you to that actual first meeting place, a newsagents where Paul was a paperboy.
What makes the encounter at Woolton different of course is that there was music in the air. John was playing with his band, and Paul had the opportunity during a break to pick up a guitar and later sit down at a piano to show off his own superior skills. Outside of that musical context it is not clear if Paul made much of an impression on that previous meeting outside the newsagents. And this makes sense, it was a shared love of rock’n’roll that brought them together.
The omission of that earlier meeting is perhaps a minor point, but it would have highlighted the importance that music played in the origins of the platonic romance that the author wishes us to embrace. On the other hand, as an incident which to some extent undermines the unique significance of that supposed ‘boom!’ moment, perhaps it simply had to be bypassed.
And here we have a further problem. The testing of any hypothesis or theory requires a rigorous approach to the evaluation of the evidence; for and against. It cannot be acceptable to omit unwanted or unhelpful facts.
The author here however seems content to omit key facts if they do not support his hypothesis.
An early example is the recounting of the early decision by John and Paul that they would share co-writing credits for any song that either one brought to the table, irrespective of the actual authorship. The ‘Lennon & McCartney’ credit was we are told a bond between the two.
Two pages further on we get mention of the first original song that the band recorded (semi-) professionally – ‘In Spite Of All The Danger’. What is omitted is the fact that this song is actually credited on the label as written by ‘McCartney & Harrison’. Fans and experts alike may argue as to whether Paul was being generous or simply naïve in giving George a writing credit based upon the latter’s contribution of a guitar solo, but nevertheless the credit was given.
But this does not fit the solemn bond theory. The author refers to ‘In Spite Of All The Danger’ as ‘a Paul song’, and in a footnote explains that this is because he will designate songs as being either ‘a Paul song’ or ‘a John song’ as a shorthand to identify the main author. This seems to go beyond omission.
Likewise, when describing an early pre-fame recording session in Hamburg, the author suggests that John and Paul were still sufficiently nervous or unsure about their song writing that they did not put forward a Lennon & McCartney original for consideration; opting instead for a cover of ‘Ain’t She Sweet’ and an instrumental, ‘Cry For A Shadow’. Paul’s exuberant whoops during the recording of the latter are mentioned. What is not revealed is that ‘Cry For A Shadow’ is a ‘Lennon & Harrison’ co-write. But again this does not fit the theory.
John was ferociously proud of the nonsense poetry and stories that he had been writing since his school days, and much is made of the fact that he chose to write a short story with Paul. This is cited as a further example of their unique bond. Again, what is not referred to is that John wrote his most famous nonsense story – ‘A Man On The Flaming Pie’ about the mythical origins of The Beatles – not with Paul but with George. Of course George just happened to be there at the time; but perhaps Paul similarly just happened to be there when John was writing ‘On Safairy With Whide Hunter’?
A further notable point is the rather perfunctory way in which several key characters in the story – the John and Paul story – are relegated to walk on parts; for example Stuart Sutcliffe. That in the band’s later years the relationship between John and Paul was disrupted by Yoko Ono is well known, to the extent that in certain circles Yoko is still being blamed for the breakup of the band. Less well known, outside the hardcore fanbase, is the disruptive impact that Stuart Sutcliffe had on that relationship in the early days.
Stuart Sutcliffe was a friend whom John met at art college. Briefly, the story is that although of no particular musical talent Stuart was persuaded to buy a bass guitar and join the band. He was with The Beatles when they travelled to Hamburg where he met and fell in love with a German art student, left the band, and tragically died at the age of 21 as a result of a brain aneurysm or injury depending upon the teller. The author acknowledges that ’John adored Stuart’ and that Stuart in turn was ‘carried away by Lennon’; they were in short extremely close.
What is not addressed in any great detail is that this friendship for a time eclipsed John’s relationship with Paul. Quite literally Paul was demoted from his position as Lennon’s wingman to sitting one seat back on the bus beside George while John and his new lieutenant Stuart sat in front of them discussing life and putting the world to rights as art students will. Mark Lewisohn in ‘Tune In’ deals with this topic in some detail, emphasising the jealously that afflicted Paul – and to a lesser extent George who perhaps at the time had less to lose – throughout Stuart’s time with the band. Stuart was for a period of some 14 months a significant disruption to the supposed John and Paul bromance. Yet this is barely mentioned.
Paul has acknowledged both his jealousy of and his antagonism towards Stuart, which at one point descended into an on stage fist fight, mentioned in the book but not greatly elaborated upon. Again in the context of the main topic of the book one might have expected Paul’s jealousy to have been considered as a possible an indicator of the depth of Paul’s feelings for John, or of a need to have John’s attention and approval. It is however perhaps more indicative of the jockeying for position around a leader that occurs between any group of teenage boys as they seek to define their role in the group, rather than a romance torn asunder. It also left Paul isolated following Stuart’s death, and everyone in his circle knew of his antipathy towards his deceased bandmate. It was initially to George that both Stuart’s fiancée Astrid Kircher and John turned for solace. Paul has spoken about this. The photographs taken of John and George together in Stuart’s room are astonishing.
It might be argued that following Stuart’s death, Paul in effect became a replacement for Stuart. It is perhaps only following Stuart’s death that the real John Paul bromance began? Decades later Yoko would remark, “I felt I knew Stuart because hardly a day went by that John did not speak about him.” Yet this is not explored.
The book is divided into chapters referencing particular songs, primarily between 1963 and 1970, using these songs to chart the highs and lows of this quasi-marriage. It is in this analysis of the supposed pull through into the lyrics that the author comes into his own. These sections which largely fall to the final paragraphs of each chapter are well written, engaging, and strongly argued.
These are however by their nature subjective opinions.
Whilst self-evidently the 1968 song ‘Julia’ is not just a moving tribute by John to his late mother but explicitly also conflates this maternal figure with his new partner Yoko Ono, the listener might be less convinced that as John and Paul sing the title and chorus of ‘She Loves You’ it contains the unseen and unsung parenthesis ‘and you know I love you too’.
The year 1968 is widely regarded as the time when there was a fundamental change in the John / Paul relationship, and in particular the period that the band spent with the Maharishi in Rishikesh. This is alluded to, and discussed, but no conclusion is reached. This is a significant gap in the analysis, but the conclusion seems to be that ultimately the extent of the split and the underlying reasons are unknowable.
Better is the narrative around the business affairs and final sundering of the John / Paul relationship. In popular telling – and certainly in Paul’s telling of the tale – the blame lies squarely at the feet of incoming combative manager Allen Klein who drove a wedge between the two and from whom Paul was required to save the band’s millions. Here however the author places much blame on Paul’s lawyer father-in-law and his handling of the situation. There is plenty of blame to go around, and ultimately one might as easily say that the band split because Paul chose his wife and her family over John and the band rather than John choosing Yoko.
The dance between John and Paul continued post 1970 and the breakup of the band. In the early 1970s this was often played out in vituperative and childish exchanges in the music press, and indeed in songs that contained jibes or references to each other. This latter was a game also indulged in by George and Ringo around the same period. The key songs are well covered.
The author notes the Lennon-esque qualities – the guitar playing and production style – in Paul’s 1973 song ‘Let Me Roll It’, this arriving at a time when the relationship between the two was improving. Oddly no mention is made of Lennon’s appropriation of the central riff from ‘Let Me Roll It’ in his instrumental track ‘Beef Jerky’ the following year; perhaps a playful acknowledgement from John that he had heard and appreciated Paul’s homage.
The two seemingly came close to recording together in 1975. This is touched upon and, although not explicitly stated, the inference seems to be that John returning to Yoko after an extended period apart put an end to this possibility. There is elsewhere a story from producer Tony Visconti that he himself was responsible for this, by explaining to John how Paul had failed to credit him for orchestral arrangements on ‘Band On The Run’, which caused Lennon’s resentments to re-emerge. And Lennon’s diaries in the late 1970s allegedly detail his jealousies and antipathy towards Paul.
Lennon of course retreated with Yoko to their New York apartment in 1975 to concentrate on raising their new son, Sean Ono Lennon. Contact with Paul seems to have been infrequent during the next five years and ranges from warm and inviting to brusque and unwelcoming. Not uncoincidentally. as is pointed out. this was a period during which Paul and Wings became one of the biggest and most successful band in the world.
By 1979 Paul’s commercial and critical standing was beginning to wane, and the author suggest that this allowed John to re-emerge into the recording studio without feeling he was competing with his former partner on unequal terms. Certainly John seems to have kept an eye and an ear on Paul’s work, and he was particularly impressed with the 1980 single ‘Coming Up’.
Less convincing perhaps is the suggestion that ‘Coming Up’ was explicitly written as a message to John:
“You want a friend you can rely on
One who will never fade away
And if you’re searching for an answer
Stick around, I say”
Interviews given by Paul in 1980 do not suggest any great warmth between the two musicians.
Les convincing still is the suggestion that in turn John’s comeback single – ‘(Just Like) Starting Over’ – was a coded message to Paul:
“Everyday we used to make it love
Why can’t we be making love nice and easy
It’s time to spread our WINGS and fly
Don’t let ANOTHER DAY go by MY LOVE
It’ll be just like starting over, starting over”
Surely this is the rabbit hole down which one begins to wonder if the sleeve of ‘Abbey Road’ is in fact telling us that Paul is dead and that The White Album really did contain coded messages to Charles Manson.
It is almost certain that the John and Paul did not meet in 1980. In January Paul was passing through New York on his way with Wings to tour Japan and called John at the Dakota to say he had some ‘dynamite weed’; John did not invite him over. Stories exist of Paul trying to reach John later that year by telephoning the recording studio where John was working but being denied access on Yoko’s instructions. In an interview shortly before John’s death Paul referred to John and Yoko as ‘suspicious people’.
It is hard not to agree with the author’s assessments that the relationship was not in a particularly good place in December 1980, and that Paul has tried just a little too hard in the years since to establish that it was otherwise. His tribute in song – ‘Here Today’ – is impossibly moving, and unarguably more considered and fitting than George Harrison’s rather jaunty ‘All Those Years Ago’.
Undoubtedly Lennon’s death was a traumatic event for Paul, and it has informed much of his own treatment by the press and critics and fans in the years since. The author does not shy away from considering how the effective canonisation of John in the years immediately following his death changed the narrative about the band and about the relationship and Paul’s relative critical standing. That narrative – that John was authentic voice of the band and Paul the lightweight crowd pleaser – has however not held sway for at least two decades. Paul is, in the twenty first century, rightly regarded as a national treasure and the author’s article explaining why – ’ 64 Reasons To Celebrate Paul McCartney’ – is essential reading.
Ultimately however this new book seems unable to decide what it wants to be, or to whom it is directed.
For the casual fan or the new arrival the narrative is perfectly fine, however the unfortunate omission of key elements in the story that do not support the author’s theories is as likely to obscure as to illuminate the underlying relationships within the band.
Any established fan will find the narrative dull and unengaging simply because it reveals nothing new. Whether the subjective analysis of the chosen songs appeals will be a matter of individual predisposition and tolerance.
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This review is so long it could have been a podcast 😉
Nice one. Haven’t read it but I heard the author on The Word podcast and he didn’t convince me there was likely to be too much here to merit the rather gushing praise it seems to be getting in some places.
Leave a number and I’ll call and read it aloud!
The universal praise is inexplicable.
I’m reading this book at the moment. I agree with much of your review, particularly the lack of original research and the selective misreading of existing texts, notably ‘Tune In’ . The only positive for me is that is well written, at least compared to many music books.
Thanks. I’ll strike it off my list.
Bar Lewisohn II and III, the world really, really, really doesn’t need any more books about the Beatles, nor biopics.
Incidentally, I asked Mark recently about a rumour I’d heard that he had ‘contingency plans’ in place in case he predeceased the finishing of II and III. I found it absurd (if true) that he would be contemplating not finishing them and enjoying the rewards/relief. Happily, the rumour has no basis. Mark has every intention of finishing the books. I’m sure he wants people to know that.
Good to know!
Robert A. Caro (aged 89) has been working on the fifth and final volume of his monumental biography “The Years of Lyndon Johnson” for 14 years now. He’s up to about 1,000 pages on the fifth volume, but still has mountains of stuff to get through. Still, I was pleased to read that if Mr Caro dies before concluding the work, the existing pages will be published – although no other writer will be permitted to “finish” the final book.
Oh dear, I suspect I may have been suckered by the blurb promising that this book brought a new perspective to a well-worn story. At least there were a couple of quid knocked off it in Waterstones.
Insightful review, by the way, good stuff.
Excellent review Steven. The selective use of established facts to fit the hypothesis is disappointing. The past few decades have seen an absolute deluge of Fabs reference material, so such omissions as outlined above are quite unjustifiable.
I don’t understand how this book is being lauded as much as it is.
Have you listened to the Another Kind of Mind podcast? They are very pro Paul and I believe they think John was in love with him (in a platonic way) and that Paul finding Linda was more a factor in the John/Paul breakup than Yoko. Or at least equivalent.
They also had multiple podcasts going through Tune In line by li e to find out all the parts where Lewisohn was nasty to Paul or “pro John” ….
Yes they’re really tedious people. Also slightly deranged when it comes to the subject of Mark Lewisohn.
Well, call me shallow/a civilian/whatever, but I think it’s an engrossing read with perceptive insights that, like all the best music books, encourage you to go back to over-familiar songs with renewed curiosity. I don’t think it aspires to be an evidence-based historical document a la Lewisohn.
The big problem for me is the twisting or omission of facts that do not fit the psychological spin.
If the hypothesis rests on the premises that a) love songs written by L and M were actually secretly about each other and b) gee, they wrote a lot of love songs, therefore c) they were quasi-married, then it seems to be extraordinarily weak, and could be applied to any songwriting partnership. It’s more believable in the Stones, where at least there were some genuinely tender lyrical nods to back it up (Torn and Frayed, Shine a Light etc).
Beatles literature is like a recycling centre where the same garbage is picked over endlessly in a desperate attempt to extract something new. We are now 55 years post the split, which is coincidentally about how long it was after Jesus‘ death that the gospels started to take shape. We’ll soon be in the realm of virgin births and miracles.
Mick & Keef – there’s a tome to be written there.
Waiting On A Friend and One Hit To The Body being further examples
I actually find that story far more interesting than John and Paul. When was the last time they interacted as friends? I’m guessing it’s been seperate limos, seperate hotels and comms through legal teams for decades.
Would I get the time back if I read this?
Sorry but no thanks
I love the Beatles but I haven’t listened to them in years and it’s unlikely I’ll get the urge anytime soon.
Listening to them was replaced by listening and reading about them. But even that has lost its interest. I joined the nothing is real Facebook page a few years ago because the podcast was great. But bloody hell the level of obsession is unreal. Do these people listen to *anything* else?
I’ll probably buy the next two Lewisohn tomes out of loyalty if they ever arrive. But this very good review will have me stearing clear of this in the meantime. They’re not *that* interesting.
Ian Leslie has said the idea for the book came after the popularity of his Substack post “64 reasons to love Paul McCartney”. I found that interesting because he looked at McCartney from different angles, whereas the book, from what I’ve seen from extracts and reviews, seems to be forcing a thesis onto his relationship with Lennon, which is limiting. I don’t know why he did this – perhaps you need a framework for a book, but Craig Brown’s 1,2,3, 4 worked by taking lots of existing material and putting it together in a kaleidoscopic way without trying to make any particular point. In fact showing that one way of understanding The Beatles is to see that there are many different views and accounts of them, all valid in a way.
Anyway, here’s a link to the Substack, which I don’t think is behind a paywall.
https://www.ian-leslie.com/p/64-reasons-to-celebrate-paul-mccartney?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email
I had my suspicions about this book but, suckered by the reviews and my sad addiction to Beatles books, I added it to my pile on visit to Foyle’s recently. I should have known better. Lazy pseudo psychological piffle. And whilst most Beatles books manage to tell me at least one thing about the band I never knew before, this one told me nothing. Avoid.
Not helped by Caitlin Moran’s blurb on the front cover claiming that this is ‘the first new Beatles story in decades’.
That’d be enough to convince me it’s not worth bothering with.
Yep, find out who it is who is recommending the product… it is ‘always’ your best bet.
See: Paul Morley’s sudden fascination with Bob Dylan.
Oh yeah?
That’ll be the Ker, and very much, Ching.
Arf. I’ve read a few books about the Fabs and lived through their dawning to breakup at the time and I think I know as much as I need to.
I listened to the author yesterday on Joe Wisbey’s excellent Beatles Book podcast. All seemed a bit wishy washy to me. I think he said Penny Lane was Paul trying to cheer up John who was in his “1967 malaise”. A song that was completely written before that year began
I know ad hominem arguments are wrong, but I already dislike this author as a political commentator on social media and so cannot get enthusiastic about buying his Beatles book. Thank you for your comprehensive review.
Nice review! I have to say that whenever I see a new Beatles book coming out, I always think about Alan Moore using the Koch Snowflake when discussing the ever-increasing literature about Jack the Ripper. The Koch snowflake is a fractal that start off as an equilateral triangle inside a circle. You then add new triangles on each side, and then after that new triangles on each of the sides of the new triangles and so on. The result is that after a while you are simply increasing the complexity of the shape with each new addition, without really changing its shape. And its area never goes beyond the circle. Moore’s point was that the facts about the Ripper case were finite, and all the new literature being published were merely adding complexity. I don’t think we’re quite like that with the Beatles yet, but it does seem familiar.
The Beatles book I would like to read would actually be about the fandom rather than the band. For example, are the Beatles the modern day equivalent of Westerns or War Films? Something for men to use as a refuge from everyday life? Perhaps a Beatles interest is like having a garden shed? Does an interest in Beatles reissues increase once your kids have become teenagers?
I think there’s something in that. I have had a few periods in my life when I felt a bit lost and I did indeed turn to them for familiar help.
So… was Jack the Ripper guilty or not?
Yup Gary, he/she/they definitely committed a series of 5/6/7/8/9 murders in the environs of Whitechapel in 1887-1890.
Doesn’t sound that complex to me. They should hang the bastard(s).
You’d think he would have been easy to identify and catch with a name like that…
Probably listed in the Phone Book … listed as Ripper, JT
Did he not have a Facebook page, or any form of social media presence?
Most people thought him a sock puppet, or a dilettante who flounced back and forth, so failed to take him seriously. Big problem on social media, as we discovered with @orange-cunt
Damn, the hyphen always gets me!
I’m still waiting for “Saucy Jack” – that rock musical on the life of Jack the Ripper:
“You’re a naughty one – Saucy Jack,
You’re a haughty one – Saucy Jack!”
I would like to take the opportunity to recommend the book The Five by Hallie Rubenhold as an innovative book about the Jack the Ripper case, which barely mentions him at all, but instead tell you all about five women killed by him, shining the spotlight on their lives (and no, they weren’t all prostitutes). An interesting read.
Seconded.