And of course, Henry The Horse dances a waltz
In the course of this weekend’s adventures, Madam and I ended up at a nearby school fete. While trawling the assorted secondhand stalls, I found a couple of CDs I’ve been meaning to check out for ages.
George Martin’s In My Life was an album I was rather wary of. But why? Surely the man behind one of the most influential bands in recent history ought to be able to reinterpret the music and not make a complete arse of himself? Right? RIGHT?
*sigh*
Long Overdue Notes For Sir George
1. Actors (despite what they may tell you) are not musicians. I really didn’t need to hear Robin Williams on two songs, let alone have him drowning out Bobby McFerrin. Goldie Hawn trying to vamp it up on A Hard Day’s Night? I’d rather have had Peter Sellers, frankly. Jim Carrey merits his own dot point, and I’ll get to him shortly. Finally, I hope the Sean Connery impersonator got paid good money, and I hope for your sake the real one never finds out about the title track.
2. You appear to have missed the point of the lyrics. You’ve earned a special place in hell for the re-working of I Am The Walrus with Mr Carrey at the helm. “Semolina pilchard climbing up the Eiffel Tower” is not a lyric that merits analysis, or undue reflection, let alone some idiot barking, “Get down from there!”. I’d like to think his rant at the end about defacing the song was used in an ironic fashion, I really would. Did you seriously not notice what the psychedelic movement was about? I’m sorry the period was so joyless for you, but do the rest of us a favour and move on.
I love Billy Connolly’s work – don’t get me wrong. He does a creditable job on Being For The Benefit Of Mr Kite, given that his brief seems to have consisted of “don’t sing, ignore rhythm, try to avoid being musical, there’s a good chap”. The man can carry a tune when he’s forced to, you know. And why replace a perfectly good series of random tape loops with that ghastly instrumental? That horse is not waltzing, by the way.
3. The music, even the music you wrote, appears to have missed the point too. I love the score to Yellow Submarine, and no amount of sacrilege on your part can take that away. Still, what in God’s name were you thinking when you arranged The Pepperland Suite? The middle movement is straight out of Lloyd Hyphen Webber’s back catalogue – or were you a consultant on the new War of the Worlds? Dreadful stuff.
Here, There and Everywhere becomes a Celine Dion ballad; Because a chamber pot piece for Vanessa-Mae to dance around; Jeff Beck runs riot on A Day In The Life. It’s all too horrible.
4. To be fair, I don’t hate all of it. Phil Collins does a fine job on Golden Slumbers / Carry That Weight / The End, but I imagine he wouldn’t tolerate any mad crap on his track. Cos, well, we know he loves the material – his version of Tomorrow Never Knows is a fine end to his debut solo album. And John Williams’ reworking of Here Comes The Sun is not actively offensive. Mostly.
In short, I’m amazed so much effort went in to turning songs that were (on the whole) simple and under-produced into such overblown garbage.
I think Dan Le Sac said it best.
