masterbeat64
Fleetwood Class
- Joined
- Dec 19, 2022
My granddaughter is 20. She refuses to believe that her Granny was not a Hippy or that her Grandad has never owned a Beatles recording in any format whatsoever. Whether this is by design or accident, or I’m just a thrawn old bastard, really doesn’t matter. It’s at root a consequence of how the Fab 4 phenomenon developed in the UK in contrast to the rest of Creation.
Now, with The Voxmen’s ‘You Tell Me’ blasting away, I would be the biggest churl on this forum were I to deny the impact The Beatles had, especially on North American teens. Many of the teenbeat bands whose sounds have so greatly impacted our lives would probably never been formed let alone recorded, were it not for The Beatles. Life without ‘Seventeen Tears To The End’? Unthinkable.
I was 14 when ‘Love Me Do’ was released in 1962. Like nearly everywhere else in England, a teenage Saturday night in my hometown revolved around the local Youth Club (never saw The Fingermen there, though). In the Hall local groups bashed out covers of whatever was popular with the audience. The programme was usually shared by a competent bunch of Shadows imitators, note perfect and with all the fancy footmoves. The high energy sounds were provided by a slightly older gang, rooted in classic US Rock’n’Roll. Gene Vincent, Little Richard, Jerry Lee, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly. Sometimes they grudgingly performed unsympathetic covers of current pop hits and tearful ballads. But in the main these cats were Rockers. The Scene or The Star Club it clearly wasn’t, but the alternative was an evening at home with UK television. A horror worse than those 1967 fashion fiascos mentioned by Mark in another post.
Away from the Hall was the ‘music appreciation room’ where a dozen or so of us ‘full of our own crap’ would-be tastemakers stood round a portable record player, intensely listening to 45s provided gratis by the local record shop. Serious stuff, man.
This week’s half-dozen included a red label Parlophone 45 by some outfit called The Beatles. ‘Love Me Do’. One of the company said he’d already heard it and it was pretty average. We listened and contemplated, or feigned to. ‘Sounds like a Tom Springfield song’, someone said and you could imagine Dusty on lead vocal.
Six months later and The Beatles were pleasing half the nation. My Gran was telling me what a sweet boy that Paul McCartney was, Mum was murdering ‘Do You Want To Know a Secret?’ Yes I know; I was born out of wedlock. And just about every neighbourhood nerd was parading about with ‘Please Please Me’ displayed under his arm. Collarless, bum-freezer jackets, mop-top haircuts and pointed toed boots did not mix well with a French crewcut, imported levis and desert boots. By such shallow judgements lifelong prejudices are formed.
Good job I’m close enough to the inevitable to risk such heretical confessions.
Now, with The Voxmen’s ‘You Tell Me’ blasting away, I would be the biggest churl on this forum were I to deny the impact The Beatles had, especially on North American teens. Many of the teenbeat bands whose sounds have so greatly impacted our lives would probably never been formed let alone recorded, were it not for The Beatles. Life without ‘Seventeen Tears To The End’? Unthinkable.
I was 14 when ‘Love Me Do’ was released in 1962. Like nearly everywhere else in England, a teenage Saturday night in my hometown revolved around the local Youth Club (never saw The Fingermen there, though). In the Hall local groups bashed out covers of whatever was popular with the audience. The programme was usually shared by a competent bunch of Shadows imitators, note perfect and with all the fancy footmoves. The high energy sounds were provided by a slightly older gang, rooted in classic US Rock’n’Roll. Gene Vincent, Little Richard, Jerry Lee, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly. Sometimes they grudgingly performed unsympathetic covers of current pop hits and tearful ballads. But in the main these cats were Rockers. The Scene or The Star Club it clearly wasn’t, but the alternative was an evening at home with UK television. A horror worse than those 1967 fashion fiascos mentioned by Mark in another post.
Away from the Hall was the ‘music appreciation room’ where a dozen or so of us ‘full of our own crap’ would-be tastemakers stood round a portable record player, intensely listening to 45s provided gratis by the local record shop. Serious stuff, man.
This week’s half-dozen included a red label Parlophone 45 by some outfit called The Beatles. ‘Love Me Do’. One of the company said he’d already heard it and it was pretty average. We listened and contemplated, or feigned to. ‘Sounds like a Tom Springfield song’, someone said and you could imagine Dusty on lead vocal.
Six months later and The Beatles were pleasing half the nation. My Gran was telling me what a sweet boy that Paul McCartney was, Mum was murdering ‘Do You Want To Know a Secret?’ Yes I know; I was born out of wedlock. And just about every neighbourhood nerd was parading about with ‘Please Please Me’ displayed under his arm. Collarless, bum-freezer jackets, mop-top haircuts and pointed toed boots did not mix well with a French crewcut, imported levis and desert boots. By such shallow judgements lifelong prejudices are formed.
Good job I’m close enough to the inevitable to risk such heretical confessions.
