As the author of Fab Four FAQ, Fab Four FAQ 2.0: The Solo
Years, The Beatles: Fifty Fabulous
Years, and Revolver: How The Beatles
Reimagined Rock ‘n’ Roll, Robert Rodriguez has emerged as one of the
foremost Beatles scholars of the twenty-first century. His obsession continues
in his podcast with fellow Fab Four freak Richard Buskin (Days in the Life: The Lost Beatles Archives; Beatles 101: The Need-to-Know Guide; Beatle Crazy! Memories and Memorabilia) and his most recent book, Solo in the 70s: John, Paul, George, Ringo
1970-1980, which fills in the cracks of Fab
Four FAQ 2.0 with a feast of information on Beatles bootlegs released in
the ’70s, songs they covered as solo artists and solo songs covered by others,
their promotional films, studio collaborators, legal entanglements, and
business associates, as well as an immersive 165-page timeline that places
their solo achievements into historical context. Solo in the 70s is the first title on Robert’s new imprint ParadingPress (you are a true Beatles fan if you suss
why he chose that name). He is also the creator of Backbeat Books’ FAQ series,
of which my own upcoming book The Who FAQ
is a part. So thanks again, Robert, for helping me get that job and thanks for
Psychobabbling with me here on Psychobabble!
Psychobabble: I have the attention span
of a housefly, and about halfway through writing The Who FAQ I started getting a little antsy with writing about the
same band every day. You, however, have really committed to being a Beatles
scholar, writing five books on them to date and conducting the ongoing Something About The Beatles Podcast.
Do you ever find yourself with a serious Beatles hangover?
Robert Rodriguez: Well, it does
sometimes blow people's minds when I only half-facetiously say that The Beatles
aren't even my favorite band. I'm only partly kidding about that: while there
are other artists whose work I enjoy equally as much, there aren't many that I
have been so driven to explore in such depth as these guys. But when you've
written five books on the same subject – something I never set out to do, by
the way – there's often a presumption that that's all you live and breathe,
24/7. Or that my house is completely tricked out with Beatles, as far as the
eye can see. No and no.
Now obviously, you cannot steep yourself in The
Beatles' history as long and as deeply as I have and not come away
feeling like you would toward members of your own family: you always love them
but you don't always like them. I think that the capacity for keeping a
critical distance helps my ability to do what I do, processing their work
analytically and not purely emotionally. It keeps the writing honest, and the
readers deserve no less. That said, as John Lennon once noted, you don't fall
in love intellectually. So I am quite sure that there are any number of things
that I am fond of within their body of work that may strike people as
indefensible. I'll cop to that!
A cool question came up the other day at the end of
a podcast taping, one we'll probably address on a future show: if you could
only listen to either Beatles music, or solo Beatles music, on a desert island
for the remainder of your days, which would it be? Without hesitation, I said
solo, which drew an incredulous response. Why would I want to listen to songs I
already know inside and out, forever? That would be like reading the same
twelve books over and over again: no matter how good they are, sooner or later
the mystery tends to dissipate, you know what I mean? The Beatles group catalog
has been inescapable – it's everywhere, and I am one of those people that will
just as likely turn the dial if a Beatle song comes on.
The solo body of work, though – that's a whole
other thing. Notwithstanding the fact that there's so much more of it,
even my favorite solo albums are still fresher to me personally than The
Beatles product. And I haven't even explored every single one in depth yet,
truth be told.
So to circle back to your original question: while
I may not listen to their stuff all the time, the story and the history
I always find compelling. Especially the post-sixties era, which is at
once so intriguing and less familiar.
PB: I imagine that there’s more to sink
your teeth into with the solo years since there’s more to criticize.
RR: Well, there's that.
The whole aspect of the period being unrelentingly fascinating, as well as – to
a certain degree - uncharted territory and therefore, a challenge. It's one
that I think the free-standing chapters as a structure is very well suited to.
I hold onto the hope that no one that reads the book can come away thinking
that they have a handle on who my favorite ex-Beatle is: I tried to diss them
all equally!
Seriously though, contrasted with covering The
Beatles as a group, I think that there's a natural tendency to look for
patterns and some sort of arc. We find that when studying The Beatles, a
subject whose story is already so familiar. When I was researching the Revolver
book, the only real preconception I had was that it was on an undeniably higher
artistic level as an achievement than was the much-lauded Sgt. Pepper – especially
as a group effort. It was therefore striking to me to step back and see
that it not only represented their high-water mark, but it came precisely at
their half life: three years after Please Please Me and three years
before Abbey Road. It was the end of the four-headed monster and the
marking of group dominance passing from John to Paul.
Studying this first post-Beatles decade, one looks
for similar patterns. Now George had been on an upward trajectory at least as
far back as 1968 in terms of developing as an individual artist, outside The
Beatles paradigm. I do believe that once he achieved world validation as this
talent who had been hiding in plain sight all these years, he no longer tried
as hard. It was as if once the world gave him the recognition that John and
Paul had denied him, on some level he felt he'd done it and thereafter, made
music for his own satisfaction, mostly. The achievement that was All Things
Must Pass completely overshadowed the 1970 debuts of all three of his
ex-bandmates.
John had been asserting his independence from The
Beatles with his outside excursions well before the official split. I don't mean
the experimental stuff with Yoko, but the Plastic Ono Band stuff. “Instant
Karma” is as solid a piece of work as any of the singles the group issued
during their final few years. But I do think that on some level, John missed
facing a direct competition from Paul the way he had when they were in the same
band. They paid close attention to each other's work, especially during those
early years, but at the same time, they failed to recognize that what made The
Beatles The Beatles was that in-house
challenge they had to try harder. Furthermore, their respective spouses were,
as George Martin was quick to point out, no substitute for what they had in
each other.
Assuming that as artists they had in mind the goal
of continuous growth and not repeating themselves, I think that they really
could have benefited by, at the very least, putting themselves in the company
of someone on their artistic level. I really don't think that studio session
players, Elephants Memory or the members of Wings really qualify. At least –
during that brief shining moment known as the “lost weekend” – John was
intuitively seeking out other successful artists to work with: Nilsson, Bowie,
Elton, Mick Jagger. He should have done more of that: found people to challenge
him. Look at who George worked with, in comparison: Eric Clapton, Billy
Preston, Gary Wright, the Dominoes, Leon Russell – all artists that had their
own identities. It could not help but raise his game.
