Sometimes it’s good to go
through the time tunnel and remember that once the Beatles were “the strangest
group to ever hit the pop scene.”
I was reminded of this
when I happened across The Best of Boyfriend (ed. Melissa Hyland: Prion, 2008) in a bookstore. Boyfriend was a UK magazine for young women published from
1959 to 1966, and in addition to advice columns, clothing ads, and serial
fiction, it featured stories and pictures of the latest musical groups.
In early 1963 Boyfriend ran a spread on the Beatles, who had recently
released “Please Please Me.” The anonymous writer sounds almost breathless as
(s)he describes the band:
“Their names are the
Beatles. Their sound—although novel—isn’t exactly a revolution. But there’s
something about it, a strange, compelling something. They are almost
frightening-looking young men, even more modern than modern. The funny thing is
that when they smile—not often—they look perfectly wholesome and nice. But the
rest of the time they look wicked and dreadful and distinctly evil, in an
eighteenth-century sort of way. You almost expect them to leap out of pictures
and chant magic spells.”
It’s amazing how well this
description fits the later image—of the Rolling Stones. They would soon be
presented as the decadent alternative to the wholesome Beatles, but in 1963,
the Beatles themselves appeared threatening, in a mysterious, transgressive
kind of way.
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From the vantage of 2012,
the photos accompanying this prose make such a reaction seem ludicrous. The
besuited Beatles look rather serious (Lennon in particular), but hardly
menacing. But for those of us too young to have witnessed Beatlemania (I speak
as a Gen Xer), this article is a window into the degree to which even the early
“moptop” Beatles represented rebellion.
One of the things the
Beatles rebelled against was the sweet sentimentality of much popular music of
the day. Not that the Beatles couldn’t enjoy such sentiment on occasion (“Till
There Was You” on With the Beatles,
for example), but that the songs Lennon and McCartney wrote often lifted the
veil on young love and exposed the sexuality beneath.
Consider this reaction to
“Love Me Do”:
“It was a love song with a
difference—neither romantic nor happy. It was aggressive and fitted in
remarkably well with the Beatle look. So, too, did their second release,
‘Please, Please Me.’ Obviously, the girls of England didn’t want gentle
persuasion because both records have shot the Liverpool group to success.”
This response highlights
how the early Lennon and McCartney policy of writing songs with personal
pronouns in the titles helped shape the Beatles’ image. Direct address, with a
suggestive demand or plea attached, was central to making the Beatles sound
“aggressive” and seem “more modern than modern.”
The Stones would take to
new extremes both the external props of “wickedness” and the sexual aggression
“Love Me Do” and “Please Please Me” only shadow forth. But the Beatles paved
the way with the cut of their clothes and songs.
Looking through the pages
of Boyfriend helps put the
Beatles in their complex historical context. They were one of many pop groups
suitable for the pin-up treatment, part of an ever-scrolling list that includes
many who have long since passed into relative obscurity (Johnny Kidd and the
Pirates, the Bachelors, the Mojos, the Swinging Blue Jeans). But the richness
of this period of music is also on display, as the Moody Blues, the Pretty
Things, the Animals, the Hollies, the Kinks, and the Who take their turns in
the spotlight.
It’s important to remember
that the Beatles couldn’t have done what they did without those who preceded
them. But it’s impossible to overstate how completely they kicked the door open
for those who followed.
[If you’re interested in Boyfriend and the early teen magazine phenomenon, I
recommend this piece by Jon Savage, which describes how these publications
“created an all-inclusive, almost hermetically sealed environment of Super
Pop.”]
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6 comments:
I just love how the writer--in a teen mag!--thought that describing them as evil in an "eighteenth-century way" would make clear what she was getting at. Try to imagine teens having any real clue what the eighteenth century was like?!
What I love is that the writer--in a teen mag!--thought that describing them as evil in an "eighteenth-century way" would give readers a clear picture of what she means. Imagine any teen having even a vague sense of what the eighteenth century was like?!?!!?
It's almost impossible for me to imagine Paul McCartney being described as a "frightening" character. I mean, for god's sake, those giant doe eyes looking at you, and those perfectly shaped eyebrows? What girl would be frightened by that? It really is fascinating to read this and consider how button-up people were.
But that fits with what I've read in Jonathan Gould's book, Can't Buy Me Love (a terrific sociological history of the times as well as of the Beatles), where he talks about how most teenagers at the time dressed and looked and lived like mini-adults.
I guess it's hard to understand now that people would have been so intimidated and titillated by "long" hair on a boy.
-- Drew
Levi and Drew, I feel sure "wicked," "dreadful," and even "eighteenth-century" are code for "sex" in this article. That's what makes the "wickedness" so breathlessly "frightening" (code for thrilling) to this author. Or at least to this author's/magazine's conception of the audience for this article.
Makes all those girls and young women chasing, screaming, crying, and fainting over the early Beatles more understandable to me.
I dunno about wicked, dreadful, or even 18th century ---but damned if George Harrison circa 1971 doesn't look like a Byzantine painting of Christ.
He truly did.
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