Only ten days in and already a touch of ‘blogger’s block’ has set in. But I’ll give it a go anyway. At the moment I have a good few unfinished drafts based on what seemed like great ideas that quickly ran out of steam – I’ve had a read through them this evening but each and every one of them is going to have to remain on ice for now.
I’m tempted to write something about the thrilling cup tie at White Hart Lane earlier this evening (Spurs going from being very unlucky to very lacking, ultimately giving away a silly injury time penalty enabling Leeds to force a replay at Elland Road) but I have serious doubts about my abilities as a football pundit.
I’m tempted to write something about the fact that, as someone who has been a lifelong Beatles fan, I have only just (thanks to the miracle of downloading) watched the ‘Let It Be’ film in its entirety for the first time (it’s never been released on DVD and if it has been shown on TV in the last 25 years I must have been somewhere else at the time) What a shabby epitaph it is. Endless hours of half arsed jamming, interspersed with bitching and squabbling between four men (and an ever present Japanese performance artist) who have been run ragged by their own phenomenal success over the best part of the previous decade and have quite frankly had enough, condensed into one 80 minute shambles.
Looks like I am writing about ‘Let It Be’ after all. Good Oh.
What miniscule structure there is to the film I am only able to work out because I have read so many Beatle books (and seen the ‘fab three’ give their very politically toned down version of the events that led to the break up on the ‘Anthology’ DVDs) but suffice to say the footage used from the cold, capacious and utterly characterless Twickenham Studios is pretty horrible. McCartney struggles to keep things going and to raise morale; full credit to him, but it only makes him come across as a patronising shit (especially to George) Lennon (in the midst of a full-on heroin habit) probably just wants to spend time with the new love of his life, sitting in a big bag and making experimental films of bare posteriors and his own John Thomas, but he just comes across as bitter, acerbic and not at all interested, his occasional Paul O’Grady scouse jokes unfunny to all except the ever present and painfully sycophantic back room staff. Harrison tries his best to do his bit on the Lennon and McCartney numbers, despite being ordered around by McCartney and having to put up with Lennon apparently being too superior to contribute George’s ‘I Me Mine’. Poor old Ringo – he just drums along, only ever really wanting to play, looking very uncomfortable when the atmosphere is icy, and painfully conscious that the greatest gig of his career is about to come to an abrupt end.
Things do improve once they decamp to the familiar and more comfortable surroundings of Apple HQ. Billy Preston arrives on keyboards (no explanation given in the film of course as to why he is there) resulting in everyone being on their best behaviour. There is an excellent jam session where McCartney’s soon to be step daughter Heather (aged maybe 5 or 6) steals the show, and the famous roof top concert (even though it stinks of obligations being fulfilled) is still a great and iconic Beatles moment, great fun to watch and the only real saving grace in this pretty awful ‘movie’.
After the mess that was the whole ‘Get Back’ project (only later renamed ‘Let It Be’) only Abbey Road remained. A wonderful album, recorded by the band knowing it would be their last, but wonderful in the main thanks to George Martins ability to polish a turd until it turns into a big nugget of gold.
Well that’s me done. Time for a hot bath, a large Ciento Tres and some 1950s American Sci Fi. Them? Forbidden Planet? Hmmmmmmmm. Choices.
More to follow
Col
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