Showing posts with label Beatles songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beatles songs. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Beatles Dental Care

Two minutes. That, I've long understood, is how long you ought to brush your teeth. Yet how can you know you've accomplished that?

It was suggested to me that an easy way to do it was to listen to a song in your head which was about two minutes long while brushing. So I 'play' the Beatles' Can't Buy Me Love in my mind as I take care of my twice daily dental chores. That's not a terrible earworm either.

I wonder if Sir Paul ever imagined that his rock standard would be used for the health of an old Detroiter in 2026? Hmm...I bet he doesn't give it a second thought. Or first for that matter.

Saturday, June 7, 2025

Uke-elar Power

I love the Beatles. They are the greatest pop-rock group. The consistency they displayed in the short time the band was complete is incredible. 

It isn't a surprise then that musicians want to emulate them. Such desire can lead to things which I wouldn't have expected.

Take the ad which came up on my Facebook feed (oh, algorithms, you know me so well) which offered a transcription of 20 Beatles songs adapted for baritone ukelele. 

Really. It's right here on Amazon. I never even knew, the thought had never crossed my mind that you can play greats such as Hey Jude and Twist and Shout on your baritone ukelele. Not to trip the triggers of my fellow baritone uke players, but try in your own head right now hearing Hey Jude on a uke. Okay, a deep sounding uke. I didn't even know such musical beasts existed. But then, I wouldn't have known about piccolo trumpets either without Penny Lane.

I don't honestly mean to make a joke about this. Well, all right, I do. No offense to aficionados of the instrument, but baritone ukelele? It sounds like something you'd hear in a comedy sketch. "All right, we're forming a band. Ron, you got your guitar. Great to have you on drums, Nick. Marty, what have you got?"

"Baritone ukelele."

"Get out! Now! Mocking our dreams like that. Someone get Phil and his cowbell."

I mean, can you see The Who smashing their baritone ukes on stage? Some things rock just isn't ready for.

Saturday, August 8, 2020

Rain, I don't mind

I like bright, warm, sunny days as much as the next guy. I especially like them on vacation, just like, I suppose, the next guy. But I don't mind a little rain either. Even when I'm in Hessel in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula. In fact I like one day of rain when I'm here.

I like the soft drumming of the rain on the tin roof of the garage. I like sitting on the front porch with a hot coffee as the gentle, cool breeze wafts the fresh smell of the rain across it. I like watching the drops of water hit the the water of the lake in front of me.

Mind you, it can get to be too much. A couple years ago my son and I stood in the aforementioned garage one July afternoon and could hardly hear each other talk during a torrential downpour. Drops of water were pounding that tin roof so hard that talking was more shouting, and we were within arms length of one another.

But as to typical, run of the mill showers, a soft drumbeat on tin is soothing. And rain, as Paul McCartney explained talking about the Beatles' song Rain, is a good thing. Why not praise it?

So I'm watching the local weather radar today to see when the rain forecasted is to arrive. I want to be right here in Hessel when it does.


Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Whole notes

I have listened several times over this evening to The Beatles' Hey Jude. It is a tremendous song, a true Magnum Opus for Sir Paul. It is perhaps my favorite tune ever.

In short, I kinda like it.

And what I like about it most is its magnificent simplicity.

We talk about diversity. We praise it, indeed beyond any worthwhile value. And I'm okay with such praise if all you mean is small-d diversity. But to anyone feeling only that I want to point out one small yet powerful value.

Whole notes.

We are all familiar with the four minutes or so of the na-na-na final, drawn out chorus of Hey Jude. It forces itself upon Jude's incessant pleas. But do you notice when it really begins? Do you notice the muted yet pronounced brass which begins with the fourth repeat of na-na-na?

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, brass falling deeply in union from the treble to the bass clef it seems, drawing everything into itself. The whole song falling down to a unity which we all understand.

It continues beyond that, in the open background before fading away steadily, a trick used by editors to make a song sound as though it never ends. It makes songs fade into eternity.

Whole notes make that unity.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Harrison and Depardieu

We're not fans of the French actor Gerard Depardieu. Oh, we aren't exactly adversaries either. We don't know all that much about him, really, except that he's a famous actor and that, as isn't unusual about famous actors, he has few dollars (well, euros) laying around.
We know a bit more about George Harrison. As a Beatle and an outstanding songwriter and musician in his own right, he, no doubt, had money to burn. What might so disparate personalities have in common?
One wrote a song slamming the British government for a 95% 'supertax' on the earnings of the rich. The other has been granted Russian residency in order to avoid a 75% tax rate in his native France.
Let me tell you how it will be there's one for you nineteen for me. If there is a chord which resonates within American conservatism, that may be it. It leads us to questions which simply do not get asked, even by the right wing. It leads us to ask whether it is ever just to take 19 out of 20 dollars from anybody's pocket, let alone three out of four.
After a point, does it matter how much money they have? We will agree that those with more ought to pay more with regard to the needs of society. But seventy five or ninety five percent taxes on income? By what right can such rates ever be justified?
This is illustrated quite well while when you throw in the background of the persons involved. Both Depardieu and Harrison were of humble origins. They weren't born into wealth. They had talent which they were able to parlay into very well paying careers. They made us laugh, they made us cry: perhaps, also, they made us think. Sure, they were not alone in that endeavor. Others recognized their ability, others worked behind the scenes for their success, others incidentally aided the process by which they became wealthy. Without all that, they would not have succeeded so wonderfully.
Yet without their own talent they would not have succeeded either. Can we know which was the more important?
We most certainly can. It was the ones with the talent. Without them, the rest doesn't matter so much. There would be no tax base without their talent.
You may have your sales taxes and user fees. You may even have luxury taxes on items beyond the reach of the vast majority of the population. Indeed, you may have higher income tax rates on the ones who make a lot of money. But anyone who believes the rich should be soaked merely because of their wealth punishes talent and effort and, further, actually denies the economically lower classes of benefits they would never of their own efforts achieve. You deny them recreation, easier lifestyles, and recompense beyond measure in the obtaining of everyday needs.
But worse, you feed an insatiable monster. You feed personal jealousy and public greed. You feed your base desires. And the worst of that is, you fail to ask what type of person that makes you.