Eleanor Rigby

August 23, 2013 • 8:08 am

Here’s the second in my selection of favorite Beatles music (n.b.: there may be more than a week’s worth).

This song, “Eleanor Rigby“, is one of the reasons I consider Revolver (1966) to be the best Beatles album. It’s simply a masterpiece, with music and lyrics perfectly attuned, and an unusual backing with classical rather than rock instruments. It also shows the tremendous contribution that producer George Martin made to some of the Beatles’ greatest hits.

Rolling Stone ranked it as #22 on its list of the 100 Greatest Beatles Songs, but I think it deserves a spot in the top 10. At any rate, the site gives some information about the composition:

When McCartney first played “Eleanor Rigby” for his neighbor Donovan, the words were “Ola Na Tungee/Blowing his mind in the dark/With a pipe full of clay.” McCartney fumbled with the lyrics until he landed on the line “Picks up the rice in a church where a wedding has been.” It was then that he realized he was writing about lonely people and transformed the song into the tale of a spinster, a priest and how their lives intersect at her funeral.

There are conflicting stories of how McCartney came up with the name for the title character. According to McCartney, he combined the first name of Eleanor Bron, the lead actress in Help!, with a last name taken from a sign he had seen in Bristol for Rigby & Evans Ltd, Wine & Spirit Shippers. But Lionel Bart, the writer-composer of Oliver!, claimed that on a walk with McCartney in London’s Putney Vale Cemetery, they saw the name Eleanor Bygraves, and McCartney said he would use it in a new song.

Most intriguing, in the 1980s, the gravestone of an Eleanor Rigby was discovered in the churchyard of St. Peter’s in the Liverpool suburb of Woolton — just yards from the spot where Lennon and McCartney first met in 1957 after a performance by Lennon’s group the Quarry Men. “It was either complete coincidence or in my subconscious,” McCartney said.

After McCartney wrote the melody on the piano at his girlfriend Jane Asher’s flat, he gathered Lennon, Harrison, Starr and Pete Shotton, Lennon’s childhood friend, at Lennon’s house in Weybridge to help finish the lyrics. The group all agreed on certain details about this session: The priest was originally called “Father McCartney” until they found the name “McKenzie” in a phone book; Starr chipped in the line “darning his socks in the night”; and it was Shotton’s idea that the song end with the funeral, bringing all of the principal characters together.

Without further ado:

Here’s a statue of Eleanor Rigby in Stanley Street, Liverpool. As the plaque notes, it’s dedicated to “All the Lonely People“:

525px-EleanorRigbyStatue

Wikipedia gives some details of the song:

“Eleanor Rigby” does not have a standard pop backing. None of the Beatles played instruments on it, though John Lennon and George Harrison did contribute harmony vocals. Like the earlier song “Yesterday”, “Eleanor Rigby” employs a classical string ensemble—in this case an octet of studio musicians, comprising four violins, two cellos, and two violas, all performing a score composed by producer George Martin. Where “Yesterday” is played legato, “Eleanor Rigby” is played mainly in staccato chords with melodic embellishments. For the most part, the instruments “double up”—that is, they serve as two string quartets with two instruments playing each part in the quartet. Microphones were placed close to the instruments to produce a more vivid and raw sound; George Martin recorded two versions, one with and one without vibrato, the latter of which was used. McCartney’s choice of a string backing may have been influenced by his interest in the composer Antonio Vivaldi, who wrote extensively for string instruments (notably “the Four Seasons”). Lennon recalled in 1980 that “Eleanor Rigby” was “Paul’s baby, and I helped with the education of the child … The violin backing was Paul’s idea. Jane Asher had turned him on to Vivaldi, and it was very good” The octet was recorded on 28 April 1966, in Studio 2 at Abbey Road Studios; it was completed in Studio 3 on 29 April and on 6 June. Take 15 was selected as the master.

George Martin, in his autobiography All You Need Is Ears, takes credit for combining two of the vocal parts—”Ah! look at all the lonely people” and “All the lonely people”—having noticed that they would work together contrapuntally. He cited the influence of Bernard Herrmann’s work on his string scoring. (Originally he cited the score for the film Fahrenheit 451 but this was a mistake as the film was not released until several months after the recording; Martin later stated he was thinking of Herrmann’s score for Psycho.

UPDATE:  Reader aljones909 noted in the comments this videoanalysis of the song by Howard Goodall, part of Goodall’s documentary on the Beatles (there are other parts on YouTube). The analysis of “Eleanor Rigby” starts at 2:37.  I hadn’t realized that McCartney was only 24 when he wrote it!

A heartening pro-science article? Not really.

August 23, 2013 • 5:05 am

About half a dozen readers have called my attention to an op-ed piece in Wednesday’s New York Times by Adam Frank, a professor of physics and astronomy at the University of Rochester:  “Welcome to the age of denial.”  Several readers also noted that it was a breath of fresh scientific air in the fetid doldrums of summer, decrying the loss of respect for science in America and offering solutions.

But after reading it, I was disappointed, for although Frank’s piece is pro-science, it’s merely another op-ed calling our attention to the pervasiveness of creationism and climate-change denialism, decrying the decline of science in the U.S. in an unconvincing way, and failing to propose another solution beyond “get more kids interested in science.”

To be sure, any pro-science piece is good in the Times, which has shown a recent and distressing habit of publishing pieces that osculate the rump of faith. But in the end it contributes little more than saying, “Yay for us!”

Frank begins by arguing that when he went to school in the eighties, and when his professors went to school earlier, things we different: Americans had respect for science. But, he says, American society has changed: it’s become less accepting of scientific facts and more enamored of anti-scientific views. His examples are the supposed rise of creationism and the undoubted rise of climate-change denialism and opposition to vaccination.

This is not a world the scientists I trained with would recognize. Many of them served on the Manhattan Project. Afterward, they helped create the technologies that drove America’s postwar prosperity. In that era of the mid-20th century, politicians were expected to support science financially but otherwise leave it alone.

. . .Today, however, it is politically effective, and socially acceptable, to deny scientific fact. Narrowly defined, “creationism” was a minor current in American thinking for much of the 20th century. But in the years since I was a student, a well-funded effort has skillfully rebranded that ideology as “creation science” and pushed it into classrooms across the country. Though transparently unscientific, denying evolution has become a litmus test for some conservative politicians, even at the highest levels.

Meanwhile, climate deniers, taking pages from the creationists’ PR playbook, have manufactured doubt about fundamental issues in climate science that were decided scientifically decades ago. And anti-vaccine campaigners brandish a few long-discredited studies to make unproven claims about links between autism and vaccination.

Climate change wasn’t even on the radar in the eighties, except perhaps to the most prescient. As for anti-vaccination, well, I can’t remember whether, back in the Fifties, there was opposition to polio (or other vaccines), but I’ll grant you that there wasn’t.  But creationism has held steady since Frank was in school, at least insofar as Americans accepted it and denied evolution. I’m pretty sure that creationism is no more entrenched in American classrooms now than it was when I grew up. As far as public acceptance of evolution goes, it’s slightly higher than it was in the early Eighties.

But is America really less scientifically inclined than in the past?  I don’t accept Frank’s data on creationism, whose rejection, by the way, derives almost entirely from religion—something that Frank conveniently ignores. Denial of global warming is an economic (and partially religious) issue rather than a flat-out rejection of science, which is just an excuse. And anti-vaccination sometimes reflects not an antiscientific attitude but a campaign driven by those who don’t want to accept that autism is either genetically or developmentally innate or (wrongly) caused by bad parenting. We all know that trying to teach people the facts about climate change and vaccination doesn’t work very well, because the advocates of those wrongheaded views are simply impervious to fact.  Vaccination and climate denialism are, in that respect, akin to religions.

I don’t see a decline in American science, or in public acceptance of science, except in one area: funding. In the halcyon days when Frank’s professors were young, and later, when he was a student, the government had tons of money to fund science.  Grants were much easier to get than they are now, when the funding rate of an organization like the National Science Foundation is only 7-10%.  But that diminution of funding reflects not a disrespect for science, but the tightening of everyone’s belts in tough economic times.  I am sure than when things improve economically, science funding will rise.

Nevertheless, other nations are catching up to us, and we hear dire warning that the U.S. is falling behind in science.  But should we really worry about that? The U.S. remains the gold standard for scientific research, but other countries are closing the gap.  So what? Many of those countries send their students to the U.S. and Canada for training, and we’re simply exporting our expertise. A rising tide lifts all boats, and it’s good, I think, that other countries are catching up to us. The argument that “our country is falling behind” smacks to me of chauvinism, especially when it reflects a rise in other nations rather than a decline in our own.

So I’m not sure I agree with Frank’s assessment that our culture is now “less engaged with science and technology as intellectual pursuits than at any point I can remember.” There are tons of popular science books on the shelves these days, and although Carl Sagan and Steve Gould are no longer with us, we have Richard Dawkins, Brian Greene, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Dan Dennett, Steve Pinker, Lee Smolin, E. O. Wilson, Jared Diamond, and many others, as well as tons of nature shows on television. We are literally awash in popular science, as a visit to any bookstore can confirm.

So what is Frank’s solution to this problem? It’s lame. He argues that students “must become fierce champions of science in the marketplace of ideas.” And this:

The enthusiasm and generous spirit that Mr. Sagan used to advocate for science now must inspire all of us. There are science Twitter feeds and blogs to run, citywide science festivals and high school science fairs that need input. For the civic-minded nonscientists there are school board curriculum meetings and long-term climate response plans that cry out for the participation of informed citizens. And for every parent and grandparent there is the opportunity to make a few more trips to the science museum with your children.

Yes, yes, those activities could marginally increase interest in science among the public. But why do we have to be inspired by Sagan when there are others equally compelling? Just read some of Dawkins’s evolution books, and nobody is more enthusiastic about selling astronomy and cosmology than Neil deGrasse Tyson. Still, the failure of parents to take their kids to science museums is not the major problem.  That is close to the failed solution proposed by Mooney and Kirshenbaum, who in Unscientific America suggested that those interested in science should become journalists and science p.r. people instead of working scientists. That is, we should train more cheerleaders for science.  Nobody took that argument seriously.

Now maybe this is just me, but I think that we’re if we really want to boost public respect for U. S. science, and the amount of science being done, we should do two things:

1. Weaken America’s hold on religion, which is largely responsible for climate-change denialism and completely responsible for creationism.  These movements are brushfires that will re-ignite so long as faith is there to fuel them. We’re in a war not for science, but against superstition, which enables nonscientific views.

2. Fund science more generously.  That not only increases the product (new knowledge), but feeds back into public education, for the best science educators are those practicing scientists who are enthusiastic and knowledgeable about their craft, and want to sell it to others. Those are the people with the means and the credibility.

Don’t get me wrong: I think that Frank’s article is, on the whole, a good thing. It’s just not an excellent thing, for it neither pinpoints the cause of the problem nor offers credible solutions. What we need are more secular players in the game, not more cheerleaders on the sidelines.

To the readers: Do you agree with Frank that there’s a problem? If so, what is it? And what solutions do you propose?

International Cat Day: Readers’ cats

August 23, 2013 • 3:14 am

It’s time for another installment of readers’ cats, which I’m presenting in threes (owners, not cats).

The first is by reader Peter Nothnagle, who occasionally comments here as ‘Peter N'”.

This is Gus, a cat who understands comfort, relaxing in a sunbeam.

Gus

Reader Elizabeth sends not only a photo of her cat, but also a cartoon:

My name is Elizabeth Beilke, and attached is a photo of my catawampus feline friend, Small Puma. I have also attached one of my comics in which she was featured, in case that might be of interest.

Small puma picture

Small Puma

Smart cat! You can see more of Beilke’s cartoons at her tumblr site, Awkward Cephalopod. 

Finally, reader Dave sends us two moggies:

These handsome and rakish beasts are called Mithras, and Clause, and they are brothers, and are now enjoying a stately retirement in Versailles, France. They’re 14 years old now but still in the prime of their lives, and enjoy plentiful and muchly deserved belly rubs, fuss and tuna and reciprocate with much love upon their human staff. Mithras’s classical tabby looks led to him becoming known as the “The King of Cats” (despite his ear being mangled by an unruly subject in a fight some years ago), even though his brother is the alpha male/Chief Enforcer and the real Power behind the throne.

Mithras first:

Mithras

Then Clause:

Clause

A cat translator

August 22, 2013 • 2:53 pm

From this week’s SMBC, courtesy of reader Steve:

20130818

There are two things wrong with this cartoon:

1. Nobody would name their cat “Scruffles”. (The inevitable result of that statement is that some reader will say he/she owns a cat named Scruffles.)

2. I don’t think the translation is accurate. A more likely one is “Where the hell is my dinner?”  But readers are invited to supply their own translations.

Penn Jillette: what he reads and how

August 22, 2013 • 1:10 pm

I just know you’ve been asking yourself, “I wonder what Penn Jillette is reading right now?” It should be interesting stuff, for he’s a famous magician, atheist, libertarian, and generally outspoken and intriguing guy.

Well, maybe that question hasn’t crossed your mind, but it did occur to the people at the books section of the New York Times, who, a week ago, conducted a “By the Book” interview with Jillette. I won’t spoil all of it for you (hint: he likes to read in en déshabillé), and it’s longish, but here’s a few tidbits to whet your appetite. These are the gossip-y rather than the literary bits.

What are your reading habits? Do you stick with electronic everywhere? Do you take notes? Do you snack while you read?  

Besides the bathtub and rehearsals, I also like to read in coffee shops (I read anywhere I’d like to be naked). I always read electronic, mostly iPad. I won’t touch paper any more even if water damage costs me a few devices. I highlight and take notes like a freak, and I have notes on my computer from every book I’ve read since 1985. Before 1985, I have no evidence there were books. Snacks are always good, even in the bathtub; I like a pot of decaffeinated tea, and some ginger snaps or some peanut butter right out of the jar. If I’m on the road, I eat cashews and wicked-expensive little orange juices from the minibar while I read in the tiny tub.

If someone walked into your office while you were writing, what would they see? 

Me in just boxer shorts at the most, with a big pot of tea and three of the biggest computer screens you’ve ever seen. I like to pretend I’m commanding a starship while I’m writing. On the center monitor I have whatever I’m writing. I have it huge, so less than one page takes up the whole screen in a stupid, stupid big font. I have it just black and white, no color on the screen and no toolbars. Each letter is about a half-inch high, and it takes up my whole field of vision. On the left monitor I have camera feeds from all around my house so I can check on my family to break my focus. Also on that left monitor I have small windows of iTunes, MOG and Spotify all open. One of those is playing nutty jazz, like Sun Ra, nutty loud. On the right monitor I have a lot of browser windows open, some with research, some with porn. Between the center and left monitor I have a clear, big hourglass that’s timing the 45 minutes of writing I have to do before I can check my mail again.

If you could meet any writer, dead or alive, who would it be? What would you want to know? Have you ever written to an author? 

I’ve met Nicholson Baker, Richard Feynman, Hitchens and Dawkins, and they would be top of my list. I never met Melville, of course, and I’d like to ask him to talk to me about God. I write fan letters all the time. The latest ones are to Daniel Kahneman, Lawrence Krauss and Emma Donoghue.

Did any of them write back? Who wrote the best letter?

It used to be that none of them wrote back; now all of them do. I wish I could say it was because I was successful, but I think it’s more likely that it’s just easier to write mail now without those pesky envelopes and stamps to worry about. The best mail was always from Hitchens — and I don’t imagine he will ever be beat.

Indeed. I have a very few emails from Hitchens (part of a group discussion), and they’re primo stuff.

As for the books Jillette’s reading now, his favorite books of all time, what’s the best book on science he’s read this year, and what he plans to read next, you’ll have to go see for yourself.

Match this song!

August 22, 2013 • 9:07 am

In our discussion (to use a euphemism) about the quality of modern rock, several readers dissed the Beatles, one of them even saying, as I recall, that he simply couldn’t bear to listen to them.  Now that’s close to a banning offense here, comparable to touting d-gs over cats. The Beatles happen to be the greatest rock group ever, and it’s simply a moral failing not to like them.

But I see that many readers do share my enthusiasm for them, so, as a treat—or punishment, depending on who you are—I’ll present over the next week a selection of some of my favorite Beatles songs.  I hope you’ll see that the quality of their music, particularly starting with the “Rubber Soul” album, is immensely higher than anything being produced today.  If you claim, as some have, that groups of equally high quality exist today, but simply haven’t been separated from the chaff by the sieve of time, then the onus on you is to name them. If you don’t like the Beatles, well, take a number, get in line, and . . .

But first listen to their music. “A Day in the Life” happens to be my favorite Beatles song, and I was pleased to see that Rolling Stone has put it as #1 on their list of the 100 Greatest Beatles songs. It is, of course from the album “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” which I love but don’t consider their best album (that would be “Revolver”).  But the album, which came out in 1967, is dear to me because it was while listening to it that I had an instant conversion to atheism (read the story in the Chicago Tribune here).

As is well known, the song contains different parts that reflect the distinct talents of Lennon and McCartney. Rolling Stone gives some details about its composition, and the Wikipedia link above has others:

Lennon took his lyrical inspiration from the newspapers and his own life: The “lucky man who made the grade” was supposedly Tara Browne, a 21-year-old London aristocrat killed in a December 1966 car wreck, and the film in which “the English army had just won the war” probably referred to Lennon’s own recent acting role in How I Won the War. Lennon really did find a Daily Mail story about 4,000 potholes in the roads of Blackburn, Lancashire.

Lennon wrote the basic song, but he felt it needed something different for the middle section. McCartney had a brief song fragment handy, the part that begins “Woke up, fell out of bed.” “He was a bit shy about it because I think he thought, ‘It’s already a good song,'” Lennon said. But McCartney also came up with the idea to have classical musicians deliver what Martin called an “orchestral orgasm.” The February 10th session became a festive occasion, with guests like Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Marianne Faithfull and Donovan. The studio was full of balloons; the formally attired orchestra members were given party hats, rubber noses and gorilla paws to wear. Martin and McCartney both conducted the musicians, having them play from the lowest note on their instruments to the highest.

Two weeks later, the Beatles added the last touch: the piano crash that hangs in the air for 53 seconds. Martin had every spare piano in the building hauled down to the Beatles’ studio, where Lennon, McCartney, Ringo Starr, Martin and roadie Mal Evans played the same E-major chord, as engineer Geoff Emerick turned up the faders to catch every last trace. By the end, the levels were up so high that you can hear Starr’s shoe squeak.

Me with my original album from 1967, the one that promoted my loss of faith.

sergeant-pepper

Dawkins gets a break at last

August 22, 2013 • 5:04 am

At last the British press has given Richard Dawkins a break! In truth, I can’t remember the last pro-Dawkins piece they’ve published, although there are dozens taking the other side, every one a carbon copy of the others.  Strident. Bigot. Racist. Superannuated.  You know the tropes. While people have every right to differ with Richard’s ideas, the wolf-pack behavior of the British press is more like a feeding frenzy than a reasoned assessment of his ideas.

But in the August 24 Spectator, British journalist and author Nick Cohen analyzes this phenomenon in a piece called “Richard Dawkins attacks Muslim bigots, not just Christian ones. If only his enemies were as brave.” He not only decries the press for its herd mentality, but indicts it for cowardice: its refusal to defend liberal Muslims who stand up against their oppressive and conservative coreligionists.

How refreshing is this beginning?

It’s August, and you are a journalist stuck in the office without an idea in your head. What to write? What to do? Your empty mind brings you nothing but torment, until a thought strikes you, ‘I know, I’ll do Richard Dawkins.’

Dawkins is the sluggish pundit’s dream. It does not matter which paper you work for. Editors of all political persuasions and none will take an attack on Darwin’s representative on earth. With the predictability of the speaking clock, Owen Jones, the Peter Hitchens of the left, thinks the same as Craig Brown, Private Eye’s high Tory satirist. Tom Chivers, the Telegraph’s science blogger, says the same as Andrew Brown, the Guardian’s religious affairs correspondent. The BBC refuses to run contrary views. It assures the nation that ‘militant’ atheism is as fanatical as militant religion — despite the fact that no admirer of The God Delusion has ever planted a bomb, or called for the murder of homosexuals, Jews and apostates.

Sharp operators could sell the same piece a dozen times without changing a word. Read the papers, and you will suspect that is exactly what sharp operators have done.

Cohen then recounts the case of Nahla Mahmoud, a Muslim woman in England about whom the press has been curiously silent.  For less than two minutes of criticism of sharia law in Britain, she’s suffered vicious criticism and appears to be in serious danger. Her brother was attacked and her mother threatened, and now she lives in fear.

She is a Sudanese refugee who became a leading figure in the British Council of ex-Muslims. Earlier this year Channel 4 gave her one minute and 39 seconds precisely to talk about the evils of Britain’s Sharia courts in Britain. In these institutions, a woman’s testimony is worth half that of a man’s, a man can divorce his wife by simple repudiation, and women who remarry lose custody of their children. One minute and 39 seconds may not sound long enough to list their vices. But it is one minute and 39 seconds longer than the BBC has ever given her.

Nahla described how she grew up under Sharia. She was ‘always dealt with as a second-class citizen, always bought up to believe that I am an incomplete human being [who] needed a man as a guard.’

She was shocked to find the same system here in her land of refuge. ‘Muslims have been living in Britain for hundreds of years and never needed sharia courts,’ she concluded. ‘Everyone should have equal rights and live under one secular law.’

I’m only dimly aware of sharia law in Britain, how it’s implemented, and to what extent it supersedes civil law. Perhaps some reader can enlighten me. Can a British Muslim really divorce his wife according to that law, or lose custody of her children? Is a woman’s testimony in those courts worth (as it is in other Muslim countries) only half that of a man’s? If so, the British should be ashamed.

The British press, like the American, is simply afraid of criticizing Islam, and if sharia law is a going thing in the UK, how come its press writes about Richard Dawkins’s stridency instead of the oppressiveness and misogyny of Muslim law? Which is more important?

We know the answer: any criticism of Islam by the press is liable to bring down on them the opprobrium and attendant physical threats of Muslims. Everyone is well aware of the violence following publication of the anti-Muslim cartoons in the Danish press.

If we construe “Islamophobia” as “fear of Muslims” and not “hatred of Muslims,” then the press is guilty of it far more than is Dawkins. In the end, they pick on the easy victim, for Richard isn’t going to kill his journalistic critics.

Cohen has a nice finish to his piece:

My point is that women like Nahla are being terrified and abused every day in Britain. I have seen Richard Dawkins speak up for them as a matter of honour and a matter of course many times, but have never heard a peep of protest from his opponents.

One day there will be a reckoning. One day, thousands who have suffered genital mutilation, religious threats and forced marriages will turn to the intellectual and political establishments of our day and ask why they did not protect them. The pathetic and discreditable reply can only be: ‘We were too busy fighting Richard Dawkins to offer you any support at all.’

Sharia law is profoundly undemocratic and contemptuous of human rights. It should not be practiced in the UK at all, regardless of whether Muslims consider it a “tradition.” It’s time the press, like Cohen, gets its priorities straight.

A Google doodle for Debussy

August 22, 2013 • 2:54 am

Today’s animated Google doodle, accompanied by lovely music (“Clair de Lune”), honors the 151st anniversary of the birth of Claude Debussy (1862-1918). The Guardian explains:

The doodle features a moonlit riverside scene which progresses to the sound of the piece, the third movement of his most famous piano suites, Suite bergamasque (1890–1905). Lights in the streets and houses flicker on and off in time to the music as the silhouettes of cars, boats and cyclists pass by, smoke rises from chimneys and rain begins to fall.

The animation ends with two people in different boats crossing paths on the river and sharing a red umbrella.

Here’s a screenshot, but go here to see the whole thing, and be sure to press the red “start” button on the balloon at the beginning:

Screen shot 2013-08-22 at 4.40.58 AM

My favorite Debussy piece is “La Mer” (“The sea”). If you have 24 minutes to spare, listen to this version by the London Symphony Orchestra: