The Beatles Get Back Part Three
AKA Downstairs Upstairs
For this third and final instalment of the Disney Plus presentation of 'GET BACK' I am joined by two of my best friends, Steve and Ben who are both Beatle Lovers. Between the three of us, sometimes together, sometimes apart, we have had many Beatle moments; some highlights being the BFI screening of Magical Mystery Tour some years back, spending a day in Abbey Road for Lennon Live, singing backing vocals on the film Yesterday, seeing McCartney live in Cardiff and a trip to Chiswick House grounds (the Paperback Writer promotional film location.)
Ben even got to spend a little time with Paul backstage at a gig they both played and he still hasn't washed his hands.
Now we have gathered to watch part 3 in January 2022. Almost exactly 53 years to the day that The Beatles stepped out on to that freezing cold Savile Row roof, treating passers by to a never to be repeated free Beatles concert.
Steve and Ben haven't seen each other for ages and we only have the duration of this episode together, so Ben was rightly concerned that this meant we wouldn't concentrate on the documentary, that we'd be talking through it. Fear not, I said, we SHALL talk and it's fine because we know the plot.
Actually I had suggested to Ben that we should watch this episode out on my fire escape so that we could feel the cold and experience a 4D type event.
"But it's January, it'll be freezing,” said Ben
"Ah but it was January for The Beatles too" I said.
"Yes, but they were multi-millionaires" Ben said.
I'm not sure how that would protect them from the cold, but sensibly we agree to watch it in my flat, which is also cold as I dare not put the heating on anymore; but at least I have a massive new telly, which only helps to make us feel like we are with the gang, right there in Savile Row.
At the culmination of part two, the idea of the rooftop concert was born. Come part three, they realise they only have a few days to get these songs nailed and so in earnest, they begin messing around. Again.
At first there is no great sense of urgency, and a lovely scene shows George and Ringo working together at the piano whilst George Martin looks on keenly before John and Yoko drift over, John then getting on the drum kit. Paul then enters with Linda and daughter Heather who rolls around the astroturf-like carpet as though she is at nursery. It's a nice mellow atmosphere. A loose jam ensues and Yoko and Heather trade wailings. Again we are completely unperturbed by Yoko's presence, contrary to what we were told growing up, whereby she was painted as some sort of wicked interloper. To me she looks beautiful, interesting and basically someone I am sure I would have been just as beguiled by as John was, had I known her. It strikes me now that surely many of the slurs she was on the receiving end of were the product of fear, racism, and good old misogyny. A section in the book 'The Longest Cocktail Party' describes in frightening detail a phone call the Apple staff received from a seething racist madman livid about Yoko's involvement with a Beatle. A troll before the internet.
Soon enough the business of practising begins. Well, practicing whilst also messing around, obviously.
When Paul and John are singing through gritted teeth, playing hooky from the metaphorical classroom of their own creation, I want to grab them by the collar, shake them and say, "For God’s sake boys, stop messing about, we've got work to do".
The schoolboy like naughtiness continues when Ringo announces he has just farted, whilst he is sat next to George Martin.
This causes great amusement to myself and assembled friends and we can hardly believe Ringo was so brazen as to drop one in front of the man who surely travels to the studio daily by Spitfire, landing on Savile Row and pulling up neatly by Gieves and Hawkes before cutting the engine and leaping out. Imagine if Pete Best had proudly let rip in front of G.M. 1962. It might have been a deal breaker.
In-between all the bouts of clowning around, there are serious discussions between the band about what they need to do to get things rolling. Ben points out that no matter how heated they get, nobody loses their cool, voices are never raised.
During these discussions, Leicester's DeMontfort Hall is mentioned no less than 4 times which tickles us all as we all have strong Leicester connections, being my hometown and meeting as we all did at the Rare video game company in the area many years ago. I've had some good times at DeMonfort, mainly dancing around it's gardens at a Supertramp concert, but it is a modest venue (comedian Henning Wehn described it as 'A bit council') and hearing Lennon refer to it after the dizzy heights they have reached seems quaint and amusing. Lennon also espouses on the virtue of his preferred choice of new manager Allen Klein. I cannot hear that name without thinking of John Belushi in the role of the terrifying Ron Decline in The Rutles. Glyn John's is a notable dissenting voice regarding Klein.
A highlight of the 'downstairs section' of part three comes in the form of watching the band fool around with a new invention called The Stylophone. Seeing that even Billy can't get a good tune out of it makes me feel better about all my failed attempts to do such.
Eventually the big day arrives, and the band decamp upstairs to the roof. The unsuspecting Londoners below are about to have their day to day lives disrupted in the best, most unique way possible. Though some locals don't seem too happy about it.
The band start up and the magnificent sound of a super tight rock and roll band begins to bounce around Westminster. Cobwebs are blown from the rafters of lawyer’s offices, judges and their wigs are torn asunder, dusty bookshelves in grand townhouses are given their first cleaning in decades, tailors shop windows are shattered as a million watts of pure rock power belts out from the roof of 3 Savile Row. Well, not quite; These are 1960s amps and a little feeble looking P.A. not even a large relatively powerful P.A system (like the one in Demontfort hall as John says) to help transmit their music. Although it sounds fantastic on the roof, the effect down below is more that of a phantom pop band resonating around 60s London like Adam Adamant in a ghost taxi.
Vox pops abound as random pedestrians are interviewed by the film crew. Something that takes us by surprise is that many of the middle aged and older Londoners who are caught on camera give a virtual big Macca thumbs up to the lads. Whereby some (not all) of the youngsters, who we assumed would all be Beatle Maniacs, don't actually seem to register what they are experiencing, and one group of girls barely seem to know who The Beatles are. Though in truth, regular people were not used to being filmed back then and may have been a bit dumbstruck and camera shy. Also, the band are out of sight to all but people on the rooftops and trending is limited to some fabulous 60s clothes.
An exception to the mellow senior citizens, such as the lovely guy in the hat who thinks "The Beatles are cracking" is the brilliant older lady who bursts out with the immortal line "I just can't see that it makes sense" which I must get put onto a t-shirt some day next to a picture of that woman.
No surprise is the conservative middle-aged business guy who gripes that it is "A bit of an imposition". Don't worry, I say. It will all be over within an hour and you can get back to being a square before you can say "Let It Be".
After we have seen a parade of everyday citizens looking by turns, amused, bemused, excited, cool, happy and angry, Steve makes the salient point "Look how old everyone who isn't the Beatles looks".
And it's true. Well, partly. Many normal folks look closer to Victorian Britains than anything resembling Swinging Londoners and indeed time-wise it is about as close to that period as it is to today. Though there are also plenty of very cool stylish citizens among them.
Overall, the Vox Pops are a brilliant touch and gold dust as social commentary. Props to the film makers for thinking of this
A revelation for us, is that they did several takes of some of the songs. This wasn't apparent from the original cut down theatrical release. However, among the myriad versions of takes and part finished songs, it serves as a testimony to our fandom that we always recognised a final album take before the screen told us via a subtitle that "This take was used on the final release" or words to that effect.
The boys are playing wonderfully, sounding super tight on this very cold January day with an entourage of crew friends and family gathered on the rooftop with other nearby rooftops occupied with a peppering of lucky and enterprising witnesses. If the onlookers look cold, we wonder how the band can play so well, how they can respectively tinkle ivories, thump tubs, fret chords and solo so well in the cold, as I know from experience it is not easy. Lennon does mention getting too cold to play at one point. Ringo may look resplendent in wife Maureen's cool red raincoat, but it does not look warm in the least. Maureen by the way comes across as one of the coolest onlookers, bopping along looking so into the music that I just wish I could have been in her shoes for a day.
We coo over the instruments. The drum kit, the bass, the amps, Billy's keyboard.
I am trying to figure out how different, if at all George Harrison's Rosewood Telecaster is to my 1983 Japan re-issue of the instrument. His looks somehow infinitely better, so shiny and new and high quality. Like it was forged by some kind of music god, a sort of musical Excalibur. Mine is lovely and well made as are nearly all Japanese issue guitars, but definitely looks like it was made in a factory.
The music, which is what it all comes down to, is absolutely fantastic, truly exciting and we all sing along and really feel the electric atmosphere of the rooftop show.
After a few songs and apparently lots of complaints from local residents and workers, some rather junior and ineffectual looking members of the Metropolitan Police arrive. Looking cross. They are duly side-lined and expertly given the run-around by Apple staff well used to fobbing off unwanted visitors, for long enough that The Beatles can play something resembling a set. After milling around in the foyer of Savile Row, being secretly filmed from behind one way glass, and asking the question "Aren't these studios soundproofed" only to be told "It's on the roof" they finally gain access to the source of all the noise by getting slightly more cross. Once at the crime scene they stand powerless as mere observers until a senior officer who looks no nonsense shows up and eventually the naughty schoolboys on the roof have their antics curtailed.
Eventually they come down off the roof and listen excitedly to some play-back in the control room, with all sign of the law and most of the hangers on dispersed. Then we are told that they spend a couple more days laying down tracks. Then I suppose it was back to normal, recording individual parts for swansong LP, Abbey Road.
And then, it is all over. The final live show The Beatles will ever play.
That grumpy businessman can get back to his business, confused lady can try and make sense of what just happened, excited fans can telephone friends and relatives to tell them what a different work day they just had and Woolworths can stock up on 'Hippie Wigs'.
The Beatles went home, the world kept turning and thankfully, Beatles records continue to do the same to this day.
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