The Definition of Friendship
When Mark David Chapman pulled the trigger on that coldest night in December 1980, he robbed the world of a visionary who seemed to finally be at peace with his own inner demons. John Lennon’s anger had largely dissipated and was being transformed into a dignified wisdom. It was indeed a tragic turn of events, and was made that much sadder by the fact that he had finally found happiness and balance in his life.
As with any pre-mature death, there are also the very private tragedies of the loved ones and the close friends of the victim. His son Julian, who had virtually been ignored by John-the-Rock-Icon and John-the-Activist during his formative years, was at the beginning of a new father-son relationship and was abruptly deprived of that experience. Then there was his five-year-old son Sean, who was extremely close to his dad, and of course his eccentric uncharismatic widow.
And what of Paul McCartney? The two of them had forged a friendship and partnership that yielded some of the best music of the 20th Century. They were equal in every respect, trying to out-do each other but also improving upon one another’s work to the point of perfection. After the bloody breakup of the Beatles, Paul was alone. Who had the nerve and the credibility to say, “You can’t sing that – it’s rubbish!â€Â
In the late 60’s and early 70’s, John’s anger was at a fever pitch, and Paul was on the receiving end of some very nasty commentary. While John was firing off songs like “How Do You Sleep?†that were put-downs and insults aimed directly at Paul, and simultaneously saying mean-spirited things about him to the press , Paul was taking the high-road. He recorded responses like “Too Many People†containing some subtle and vague references, and “Let Me Roll It’” which lyrically had nothing to do with John, but was a spot-on re-creation of a John Lennon record replete with sparse instrumentation, heavy chordy guitar, low-register bass part and simple drum beat. The vocal was soaked in reverb, and it sounded exactly like John Lennon in parts, as if Paul was saying, “See, I know what you are about,” but he refrained from the sort of attacks that John had leveled toward him. While John reveled in his anger and pain, Paul seemed to be oblivious to suffering, and content with smoking pot, loving his La-La-La-La-La-La-lovely Linda and making silly and innocuous records. It seems in retrospect that John may have been envious of Paul’s apparent effortless bliss.
When John was murdered, he was elevated to legendary status in the public eye, but to Paul McCartney he was still the brilliant but flawed friend and band-mate from Liverpool who had turned against him. During the Beatle years, they truly were equals, but in the aftermath of John’s death, Paul was starting to be perceived as a lightweight and was getting the short-end of the stick in the respect department. The fact that he had recorded some of the sappiest and most ridiculous songs of his career in the 70’s did nothing to help him in this regard. As a result, he had to suffer John Lennon getting credit for songs that he himself had written, and what could the man say? Any sort of criticism or rebuttal would only have served to make matters worse, so he had to put on his best face and move on. On a few occasions, when Paul was honest about Lennon the man, he was quickly taken-to-task for being disrespectful and envious.
The years went by, and the legend of John Lennon continued to grow. Songs such as “In My Life†aged very well, and contrary to what John had said in interviews, Paul maintained that he had written the music and melody to John’s sublime lyrics. [Sounds like a McCartney melody to me.] While most musicians and a subset of Beatle fans knew that the majority of the Lennon-McCartney catalog was penned by one or the other and not as a team, due to the publishing credits on the songs, many people mistakenly attributed some of Paul’s best work to John Lennon. After suffering this for many years, Paul began to put his name first in the writing credits of songs like “Yesterday†which he indeed had written alone. Seems petty from the outside, but Paul still appeared to feel as if he had been cheated by history, and looking at it from his perspective, I think I understand.
I believe that had John lived, the two of them would have reconciled their differences and perhaps even recorded together once again in the 35 years since. We were all potentially robbed of the fruits from that reconciliation, but Paul was deprived of the return of his best friend, and of his own self-image as the other-half of the finest song-writing partnership of the 20th Century.
From Paul’s latest effort, “Chaos and Creation in the Backyard,†comes this song, which Paul has stated publicly is not about any one individual. This is not a review of that album, but I’ll add that this is probably his best since “Band on the Run.” I know we’ve heard that all before, but this time it’s true.
Riding To Vanity Fair
By Paul McCartney
(Click here to listen. Or here.)
I bit my tongue
I never talked too much
I tried to be so strong
I did my best
I used the gentle touch
I’ve done it for so long
You put me down
But I can laugh it off
And act like nothing’s wrong
But why pretend
I think I’ve heard enough
Of your familiar song
I tell you what I’m going to do
I’ll try to take my mind off you
And now that you don’t need my help
I’ll use the time to think about myself
You’re not aware
Of what you put me through
But now the feeling’s gone
But I don’t mind
Do what you have to do
You don’t fool anyone
I’ll tell you what I’m going to do
I’ll take a different point of view
And now that you don’t need my help
I’ll use the time to think about myself
The definition of friendship
Apparently ought to be
Showing support for the one that you love
And I was open to friendship
But you didn’t seem to have any to spare
While you were riding to Vanity Fair
There was a time
When every day was young
The sun would always shine
We sang along
When all the songs were sung
Believing every line
That’s the trouble with friendship
For someone to feel it
It has to be real or it wouldn’t be right
And I keep hoping for friendship
But I wouldn’t dare to presume it was there
While you were riding to Vanity Fair
[Originally posted 16-Oct-2005 over at my place.]
I’m sure there are elements of Lennon in this song, which I’ve just listened to again (incredibly, it popped up on iTunes shuffle just now from among 3,000 songs!) but I don’t think it’s entirely about him. I think Macca has long-since reconciled himself to the failed friendship and the woulda-coulda questions and, indeed, reached out to the ghosts with Real Love a decade ago…Great post!