Category: music

McCartney rehearses “Blackbird” on the day it was recorded

April 11, 2026 • 10:15 am

In my view, “Blackbird,” a Beatles song written by Paul McCartney and released on the Beatles’ “White Album” in November, 1968, is one of his finest works.  Here we see him rehearsing it in the the EMI’s Abbey Road Studios on the very day it was recorded: June 11, 1968. (The released version is here.)

A few notes on the song from Wikipedia:

McCartney explained on Chaos and Creation at Abbey Road that the guitar accompaniment for “Blackbird” was inspired by Johann Sebastian Bach’s Bourrée in E minor, a well-known lute piece, often played on the classical guitar. As teenagers, he and George Harrison tried to learn Bourrée as a “show off” piece. The Bourrée is distinguished by melody and bass notes played simultaneously on the upper and lower strings. McCartney said that he adapted a segment of the Bourrée (reharmonised into the original’s relative major key of G) as the opening of “Blackbird”, and carried the musical idea throughout the song. The first three notes of the song, which then transitioned into the opening guitar riff, were inspired from Bach.

The first night his future wife Linda Eastman stayed at his home, McCartney played “Blackbird” for the fans camped outside his house.

. . . Since composing “Blackbird” in 1968, McCartney has given various statements regarding both his inspiration for the song and its meaning.  He has said that he was inspired by hearing the call of a blackbird one morning when the Beatles were studying Transcendental Meditation in Rishikesh, India, and also writing it in Scotland as a response to the Little Rock Nine incident and the overall civil rights movement, wanting to write a song dedicated to people who had been affected by discrimination.

You can listen to Bach’s Bourré here, but for the life of me I can’t hear the germ of “Blackbird” in it.

The sound is off at the beginning but starts 16 seconds in. There are a few other breaks in the sound.

It’s clear that the song was tweaked right up to the end, including the tempo, the pause, and the raising of the voice on the word “life” halfway into the song.

The guy speaking to John and Paul is of course George Martin, who contributed so much to the greatness of the group’s songs.  Notice that Paul breaks into other songs from time to time, including Helter Skelter and Mother Nature’s Son, both also on the White Album. At about 6:15, Lennon tunes his guitar to McCartney’s, as if wanting to accompany him on Blackbird. But no accompaniment was needed.

Check out Macca’s shoes! The woman sitting in the corner and then next to McCartney is identified by a commenter:

Francie Schwartz is the lady appearing in the video alongside Paul. She was Paul McCartney’s girlfriend during the summer of 1968, which coincides exactly with the White Album recording sessions. She wrote about her time at Abbey Road in her memoir Body Count (1972), giving a firsthand account of those legendary sessions.
You can read about Schwartz here.

This is McCartney at the apogee of his powers. The song is a work of genius.  In all my life I will never figure out where the ability to produce songs like this comes from. All I can guess is that there’s a kind of neuronal wiring in such people that can turn thoughts into wonderful music.

Paul McCartney’s abysmal new song

April 7, 2026 • 12:30 pm

Paul McCartney was—and I use the past tense—one of the two greatest songwriters of the era that comprised the apogee of pop music. (The other was John Lennon; I’m excluding Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell as were folkier).  Sadly, he’s still making music, and, save for George Harrison, each of the Beatles immediately lost their touch after they went solo.

Here’s a McCartney song touted in the NYT as the “What’s New” in music we should pay attention to. It’s from a new album he’s releasing in May. Their blurb:

Paul McCartney, ‘Days We Left Behind”

“The Boys of Dungeon Lane,” to be released May 29, will be Paul McCartney’s first solo album since 2020; it’s named after a Liverpool street in the neighborhood where he grew up. In “Days We Left Behind,” a cozy ballad carried by acoustic guitar and piano, he sings about places and memories as both fragile and lasting; he mentions Forthlin Road, the street where he lived and wrote early songs with John Lennon. “Nothing stays the same,” he muses, but he also insists, “No one can erase the days we left behind.” His voice is shakier than it once was, only making things more poignant.

Listen for yourself. Yes, his voice is shaky, a mere shadow of his voice from the Sixties. Worse, the song is lame in both melody and lyrics, though the melody is worse than the lyrics, which are at least tolerable (I give them below).

I realize that Macca was made to create music, and probably can’t stop doing it.  And this song is still better than a lot of the dreck that passes for pop/rock music these days, but compared to the earlier McCartney, well, it’s sad.  If you leave the video on, you’ll see a horrific AI-generated video in which all four Beatles are stuck in.

Lyrics:

Looking back at white and black
Reminders of my past
Smoky bars and cheap guitars
But nothing built to last

Nothing ever stays
Nothing comes to mind
No one can erase
The days we left behind

See the boys of Dungeon Lane
Along the Mersey shore
Some of them will feel the pain
But some were meant for more

And nothing stays the same
No one needs to cry
Nothing can reclaim
The days we left behind

We met at Forthlin Road
And wrote a secret code
To never be spoken
I stand by what I said
The promise that I made
Will never be broken

Nothing ever stays
Nothing comes to mind
And no one can erase
The days we left behind

In the skies the skylarks rise
Above the sounds of war
Since that day I knew they’d stay
With me for evermore

’Cause nothing stays the same
And no one needs to cry
And no one is to blame
For the days we left behind
The days we left behind

Rick Beato: Taylor Swift vs. The Beatles

April 1, 2026 • 11:45 am

You can call me a curmudgeon for saying that rock and pop music today are dreadful compared to that of their years of apogee (yes, my teenage years!), but you’d have to call Rick Beato a curmudgeon as well. And he knows a ton about music, being a musician himself, a producer, a music analyst, and a teacher. So he surely has more musical cred than I. Nevertheless, we generally share opinions about music, in particular the view modern rock and pop is tedious, repetitive, and boring. And I’ll argue strenuously that it’s not just because I like the music of my youth, and other generations like the music of their youth. Nope, metrics like musical complexity, the frequency of autotuning, and so on support the decline of rock and pop.

In the ten-minute video below, Beato compares the Beatles with Taylor Swift, and you can guess who comes off worse. (The “kids” may disagree, but they also are largely ignorant of the Beatles.) I have to say that I’ve listened to a fair amount of Taylor Swift, trying arduously to find out what it is about her music that’s made her the world’s biggest pop sensation. It can’t be her tunes, which are unmemorable, so perhaps it’s her lyrics about the bad guys she’s been involved with—something that surely resonates with her (mostly) female fans.

In this video Beato reacts to a 2024 NYT article (archived here) that discussed whether Taylor Swift is bigger now than the Beatles were in the past. That article concludes that both were huge and, if you use the right metrics, Swift can be seen as even bigger than the Beatles:

The length of Swift’s career has allowed her into the Beatles’ vaunted ballpark by giving her the chance to evolve her sound, grow her loyal audience and take full advantage of technological advances.

Yet as wild as it is for the Beatles to have accomplished so much in so little time, Swift’s longevity might be considered equally impressive in pop music, which often overvalues the new and — especially among female artists — the young.

Swift is of course still active, so we can’t measure something that I consider important: will their music be listened to twenty years hence? And how will it be regarded several decades after Swift or the Beatles stopped making music? We’ll have to wait, of course, for the answers to those questions, and I’ll be underground.

However, in this video, Beato details his experiences with Swift, having attended a number of her concerts and having a deep acquaintance with her music, as he has with the Beatles. But Beato is concentrating on quality, not sales or chart position.  He notes that many of Taylor Swift’s melodies were written by a large number of people who change over time, compared to only three for the Beatles (Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison). And it shows in the lame melodies (Beato likes Swift’s lyrics better than “her” tunes.) Further, Swift’s instrumentation itself was largely produced and performed \ by people other than Swift—something that, says Beato, is simply “how pop music is made” these days.

Although one would think that the Beatles don’t need to be extolled by Beato, since he’s done it so many times before, but he does mention great melodies of Beatles songs like “Lady Madonna,” or “I am the Walrus.”  (I could mention a gazillion more.) In contrast to Swift, he argues, the Beatles did not repeat ideas, and “they came up with all those ideas themselves.” He winds up calling Swift a “content creator”, who picks the brains of other people when she wants to change her music.

Beato asks for comments on his opinion, and I welcome yours below. But I doubt I’ll change my opinion that rock and pop music peaked several decades ago, and has gone downhill ever since. Swift’s immense popularity only proves that.

I have never heard a Taylor Swift song that comes close to the quality of this Beatles classic, and it isn’t all that complex compared to their later work. George Martin’s interpolation at 1:42, however, is a piece of genius:

The song was recorded on 18 October 1965, and it was complete except for the instrumental bridge. At that time, Lennon had not decided what instrument to use, but he subsequently asked George Martin to play a piano solo, suggesting “something Baroque-sounding”. Martin wrote a Bach-influenced piece that he found he could not play at the song’s tempo. On 22 October, the solo was recorded with the tape running at half speed, so when played back at normal pace the piano was twice as fast and an octave higher, solving the performance challenge and also giving the solo a unique timbre, reminiscent of a harpsichord.

“Little Darlin'”: cover or parody? Or is it two, two, two songs in one?

March 23, 2026 • 11:30 am

Reader Thomas from Marginal REVOLUTION sent me the linked article piece, which shows a video of the 1957 doo-wop hit “Little Darlin'” by the Diamonds. If you’re my age, you’ll remember it.  I always thought it was a serious song, and apparently so did most Americans, but the first comment says this:

From what I recall, the Diamonds were a conventional vocal group who recorded “Little Darlin'” at the end of a session as a kind of joke song – a parody of the Ink Spots and Mills Brothers. Fortunately for them, the studio musicians joined in with perfectly irresistible beat and the song became a rock and roll hit. Early rock and roll was born as parody as much as anything else, like Elvis’s Jokey rendition of Bill Monroe’s “Blue Moon of Kentucky” turning out to be the founding document of rockabilly.

Really? And then they present the video, which, unlike any music video I know from that era, shows the group clowning around. Have a look at the video for a hit song (more cowbell!). But yes, this is the original song. which went to #2 on the Billboard charts.

To get to the bottom of this, I sent to AI, in particular Grok. Sure enough, the bot pronounced it a parody after scanning what’s published about it.

“Was “Little Darlin'” by the Diamonds a parody song?”

Yes, “Little Darlin'” by The Diamonds (1957) is widely regarded as a stylistic parody/satire of the doo-wop genre—not a lyrical parody like a Weird Al track (the words and melody are the same), but a deliberately exaggerated, campy cover that poked fun at the over-the-top clichés of the style.Here’s the story, straight from music historians:

  • The song was written by 16-year-old Maurice Williams and first recorded in January 1957 by his group The Gladiolas (on the Excello label). Their version was a straight, heartfelt R&B/doo-wop track with a Latin-tinged rhythm, falsetto, spoken bridge, and percussion. It charted modestly (#11 R&B, minor pop crossover).
  • The Diamonds (a Canadian quartet) rushed out their cover just a month later on Mercury Records. It was reportedly a last-minute, end-of-session lark—they had about 15 minutes left, no drummer, so they improvised with castanets. Lead singer Dave Somerville and the group leaned hard into the nonsense syllables (“ai-ya-yi-yai-yai-ya,” “wella-wella,” etc.), hamming it up with theatrical flair. They even performed it in an over-the-top way on TV (like The Steve Allen Show).

AllMusic critic Stephen Thomas Erlewine noted that the vocal phrases “verge on self-parody… which may be why The Diamonds’ version is superior.” Radio historian John Gilliland (on the Pop Chronicles series) explicitly stated that their recording “was in fact a parody of the genre.” Other sources describe it as a “joke song,” “satire of doo-wop,” or “intended as a satire” with “campy vocal delivery.”Despite (or because of) the tongue-in-cheek approach, it became a monster hit: #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 for eight weeks (behind only Elvis’s “All Shook Up”), the biggest version by far, and now the definitive classic. The original Gladiolas take is respected by R&B fans but far less known.It’s a classic example of a white cover version (common in the 1950s) that amplified the style for mainstream appeal—here with humor that stuck. Later, Elvis Presley covered the Diamonds’ arrangement on his final album Moody Blue, and Joan Baez even recorded an actual lyrical parody.

From Wikipedia, we learn that the hit version was actually a re-recording of a song recorded just a month earlier by a black group, the Gladiolas, one of whose members wrote the song. There’s also a brief not about the parody aspect:

It was written by a 16-year-old Maurice Williams with both melody and doo-wop accompaniment strongly emphasizing a calypso rhythm. First recorded in January 1957 by Williams’ group the Gladiolas, it was quickly released as a single on Excello Records, a small swamp blues label owned by Nashville record man Earnie Young, who was responsible for creating the song’s Latin feel, naming the group and ensuring Williams would retain the song’s publishing.

The recording, inspired by a book Williams was writing, and originally called “Little Darlin’/ The Beginning,” is noted for its trademark doo-wop falsetto by Fred Mangum and its spoken bridge by Williams (“My Darlin’ I need you …”). The Gladiolas were from Lancaster, South Carolina, where they had been together since high school.

The Diamonds‘ successful cover version followed a month later. The Diamonds were a Canadian pop group that evolved into a doo-wop group. The Diamonds’ version reached number two in sales for eight weeks on the Billboard Hot 100. Billboard ranked this version as the No. 3 song for 1957. In Canada, the song was No. 11 on the premiere CHUM Chart, May 27, 1957.

The Diamonds’ version is generally considered superior. AllMusic critic Stephen Thomas Erlewine argues that the Diamonds “Little Darlin'” is an unusual example of a cover being better than the original:

[T]he Diamonds’ take remained the bigger hit, and over the years, the better-known version. Normally, this would have been an outrage, but there’s a reason why the Diamonds’ version has sustained its popularity over the years: it’s a better, fiercer recording. Both versions are good, even if they’re a little silly, because it’s a good doo wop song, giving each member of the quartet a lot to do. At times, the vocal phrases verge on self-parody — the “ai-ya-yi-yai-yai-ya”‘s or the “wella-wella”‘s — which may be why The Diamonds’ version is superior.

On the Pop Chronicles, host John Gilliland claimed that their version was in fact a parody of the genre. Nonetheless, “Little Darlin'” (primarily the Diamonds’ version, but to some extent the Gladiolas’ version) remains an all-time rock ‘n roll R&B classic.

Here’s the original version by The Gladiolas, and sure enough, it’s pretty much like the parody (or cover), including the talking interlude. It was not a hit. Is this cultural appropriation?

“A Day in the Life”

February 27, 2026 • 11:15 am

I’ve said several times that the best rock/pop song I know of is “A Day in the Life,” the last track on the Beatles’ 1967 “Sgt. Pepper” album.  As usual, its composition is credited to “Lennon/McCartney”, but in this case the lyrics and melody are mainly from Lennon. But McCartney and also Harrison and Ringo contributed, with important additions by producer George Martin. (I’ve put the released version at the bottom.)

The video below by David Hartley, called “The world’s greatest song that simply shouldn’t exist”, was put up only a month ago. It shows how the song was inspired and constructed, and includes verbal quotes from the Beatles (and George Martin), early takes of the song, and snippets of the final song itself.

Why shouldn’t it exist? You can see how a lot of accidents, both sung and played, found themselves into the song, with sporadic suggestions from Martin and the boys, and yet the song worked together not just as a whole, but as an “organic whole,” looking as if it were planned.

Far from it!  At that time there were only four tracks available to mix for the final version, and a lot of manipulation was needed.  The ending was particularly problematic, and how George Martin helped finish it, using half of a full orchestra at Ringo’s suggestion, is fantastic. (Martin actually wrote all the orchestral parts that sound like random noise.) Likewise for the final extended chord, which began as a sung note but wound up, at Paul’s suggestion, with a long instrumental chord played on three pianos and a harmonium.

If you like the song, this analysis is fascinating.

 

There’s also a breakdown of the song by Rick Beato, which you can see here (unlike wasn’t allowed to play snippets of the song). Beato calls it “the best Beatles song.” He’s right, which means it’s the best rock song ever.

I’ve put below a screenshot from Hartley’s video apparently showing an early take of the song, with Paul on Hammond Organ, John on piano, Ringo on congas, and George on guitar:

Here’s the final released version (official video):

Best country crossover Songs

February 21, 2026 • 11:30 am

It’s Saturday, a day of posting persiflage, and so I proffer another section of my life of “Coyne’s Best songs.”  Remember, I’m limited to judging what I’ve heard, and here are what I consider to be. . .

The Best Country Crossover Songs

El Paso                                                Marty Robbins
I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry            Hank Williams
End of the World                                Skeeter Davis
Crazy                                                  Patsy Cline (written by Willie Nelson)
We’ll Sing in the Sunshine                 Gail Garnett
Stand By Your Man                            Tammy Wynette
Wichita Lineman                                Glenn Campbell
Gentle on My Mind                            Glenn Campbell
Galveston                                            Glenn Campbell
Behind Closed Doors                          Charlie Rich
Ruby (Don’t Take Your Love to Town)         Kenny Rogers & the First Edition
Right Time of the Night                     Jennifer Warnes
I Will Always Love You                      Dolly Parton
Here You Come Again                       Dolly Parton
Send Me Down to Tucson                  Mel Tillis
I Need You                                         LeAnn Rimes
Amy                                                    Pure Prairie League
Snowbird                                            Anne Murray
Sixteen Tons                                       Tennessee Ernie Ford

Now not all these songs were recorded to be “country songs,” but all of them are at least countrified—that is, in the stuyle of country music. And I love all of them. Some are now very obscure (e.g., “Send me Down to Tucson,” “Snowbird”, and of course who remembers “Sixteen Tons,” once hugely popular), but all are great music.  I’ll put a few up for your listening pleasure. You are invited to note your own country crossover songs in the comments:

You’ll notice that there are three songs featuring Glenn Campbell on the list, and “Galveston” is the least popular of the three, but it’s the one that most moves me (all are wonderful).  Campbell, originally a session musician in the famous “Wrecking Crew“, was a world-class guitarist, you’ll see below from his fantastic solo that starts slowly with the melody at 4:27 and then goes off into space.  (For another example of his virtuosity, see the section of “Gentle on My Mind” performed live here). “Galveston” was written by Jimmy Webb and released by Campbell in 2003 after it flopped with Don Ho.

The YouTube notes:

From 2002, Glen Campbell & Steve Wariner perform “Galveston”, introduced by Brad Paisley, with video intro that includes comments by Merle Haggard, Keith Urban, Melissa Etheridge, Toby Keith, Radney
Foster, Tracy Byrd, Robert K. Oermann, and Tom Roland.

The performance starts at 2:32, but don’t miss the introductory interviews.

Oh, hell, I’ll put his “Gentle on My Mind” performance below. How many country stars can you recognize?

The inimitable Dolly Parton (“It takes a lot of money to make me look this cheap”), singing one of her more recent hits, “Here You Come Again“, written by the famous duo  Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, and released in 1977.

Another early one from Dolly, written by her and released in 1973. It was her fond farewell to Porter Wagoner, who was her mentor but was also overbearing (they were not romantically involved).  A bit from Wikipedia:

Country music singer-songwriter Dolly Parton wrote the song in 1973 for her one-time partner and mentor Porter Wagoner, from whom she was separating professionally after a seven-year partnership. She recorded it in RCA Studio B in Nashville on June 12, 1973.

Author Curtis W. Ellison stated that the song “speaks about the breakup of a relationship between a man and a woman that does not descend into unremitting domestic turmoil, but instead envisions parting with respect – because of the initiative of the woman”. The country love track is set in a time signature of common time with a tempo of 66 beats per minute. (Larghetto/Adagio)  Although Parton found much success with the song, many people are unaware of its origin; during an interview, Parton’s manager Danny Nozel said that “one thing we found out from American Idol is that most people don’t know that Dolly Parton wrote [the track]”. During an interview on The Bobby Bones Show, Dolly Parton revealed that she wrote her signature song “Jolene” on the same day that she wrote “I Will Always Love You.” Parton clarified later, “I don’t really know if they were written in the same night.”

LeAnn Rimes may still be around, but she doesn’t have a high profile. Released in 2000, “I Need You” (there’s another country song with the same title) may have been the apogee of Rimes’s career, and it’s a great song. Here it is performed live on the Jay Leno Show in 2000. It may be classified as a “pop ballad,” but I’m putting it in the country crossover category become Rimes was a country singer before this came out.

“We’ll Sing in the Sunshine,” recorded by Gale Garnett in 1964, was a hit on both country-music and pop charts. Who remembers this one? It’s very bittersweet, about a woman who tells her man that they’ll have their day in the sun, but it will last only a year.  This is clearly a lip-synch of the original version.

And Skeeter Davis (real name Mary Frances Penick, with a nickname that means “mosquito” in slang) singing “The End of the World” (1962). It’s another lip-synched song, but no less great for it. (Her hair is definitely country here.) She died of breast cancer at 72, performing right up to the end.

Finally, Charlie Rich singing “Behind Closed Doors” (1973), with a theme similar to “Send me Down to Tucson,” but with the latter involving two different women.

I’ve neglected songs by greats like Hank Williams and Patsy Cline, but you can check them out for yourself. Remember that Cline’s big hit “Crazy” (1961) was written by Willie Nelson, who’s still with us.

In search of past time: The best songs about growing older or dying

February 15, 2026 • 1:45 pm

Well, I might as well reveal part of my very long list of “best music”.  This time I’ll post my choice of the best “songs about aging or dying” for Baby Boomers.  These aren’t necessarily all good (I’m not a fan of Mellencamp, for instance), but they’re all notable. And yes, I realize that “Long May You Run” is really about Neil Young’s car (a 1948 Buick Roadmaster hearse he called Mortimer Hearseburg), but it’s still appropriate.  Further, some of the songs are about lost love, but all refer to the sadness of passing time.

Father and Son                        Cat Stevens
Touch of Gray                        The Grateful Dead
When I’m Sixty-Four            The Beatles
Boys of Summer                     Don Henley
Cherry Bomb                          John Mellencamp
Long May You Run                Stills-Young Band
All Summer Long                   The Beach Boys
Caroline No                            The Beach Boys
Nick of Time                          Bonnie Raitt
When We Was Fab                 George Harrison
All those Years Ago                George Harrison
Rockin’ Chair                         The Band
Taxi                                         Harry Chapin
Cat’s in the Cradle                  Harry Chapin
Old Friends (Bookends)         Simon and Garfunkel
Don’t Fear the Reaper             Blue Öyster Cult
Wasted on the Way                 Crosby Stills & Nash

I welcome readers’ suggestions, and I’ll put up five of the songs that I think are particularly good and underappreciated:

“Boys of Summer” (1984). For some reason this song absolutely brings back my own teenage years, and quite vividly:

“Caroline, No” (1966), by the great Brian Wilson.

“All Those Years Ago” (1981).  Nobody seems to remember this song by George Harrison, but it’s not only great, but a moving tribute to his late fellow Beatle, John Lennon. It’s clear that despite their tiffs, Harrison really loved Lennon.

“Taxi” by Harry Chapin (1972).  I’m sure this song is long forgotten, but it’s among the very best ones on the list. The “soprano” part is sung by “Big John” Wallace, Chapin’s bassist; everybody thought that the original record used a female voice. You can end the song at 7:31; it just repeats with the lyrics shown.

“Nick of Time” by Bonnie Raitt (1989).  I love this song; the tune is excellent, with a good hook, and the words are wonderful: