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The Songwriting Secrets Of The Beatles
From humble beginnings in murky, Liverpool clubs in the early sixties, four songwriters emerged who would change the course of popular music The Beatles. Within only a decade they created an arsenal of songs which set the template for all popular music that followed, and, over half a century later, their music still beats with the same vitality, pangs with the same melancholy and grips with the same fervour.
How is this possible? What mystical components were fused to create these extraordinary emotions? Why are they still so influential today?
The Songwriting Secrets of The Beatles sets out to answer these questions. Chord sequences, melodies, harmonies, rhythms and structures are all examined in a clear and readable style, unlocking the musical secrets within - not just for advanced musicians, but anyone who has ever felt the power of these songs for themselves.
Printed music and lyrics feature within the text allowing rhythms and melodies to be analysed in detail within each chapter.
The Songwriting Secrets of The Beatles is essential for any musician who has marvelled at The Beatles creative intelligence; a new and perceptive analysis of both the most enduring and captivating songs of our age.
How is this possible? What mystical components were fused to create these extraordinary emotions? Why are they still so influential today?
The Songwriting Secrets of The Beatles sets out to answer these questions. Chord sequences, melodies, harmonies, rhythms and structures are all examined in a clear and readable style, unlocking the musical secrets within - not just for advanced musicians, but anyone who has ever felt the power of these songs for themselves.
Printed music and lyrics feature within the text allowing rhythms and melodies to be analysed in detail within each chapter.
The Songwriting Secrets of The Beatles is essential for any musician who has marvelled at The Beatles creative intelligence; a new and perceptive analysis of both the most enduring and captivating songs of our age.
- GenresMusic
1078 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 25, 2010
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July 13, 2018
At the time of the Beatles' failed Decca audition, A&R man Dick Rowe is reputed (possibly apocryphally) to have said to Brian Epstein that "guitar bands were on the way out". The Beatles obviously proved that verdict awfully wrong and this book, which has a rather pedestrian title, shows you some very good reasons why. In fact it could perhaps be subtitled "A Musician's Guide to Why One Never gets Bored Listening to a Beatles Album". It is an exhaustive songwriter's guide to what made the Beatles tick and is an eye-opener, even for the long-time songwriter and Beatles fan. It is not for the casual reader without any grounding in musical theory, though, whose eyes will surely glaze over at each mention of IV, bIII, bVII and the various cadences. It is however a very good primer for songwriting for the young (or not-so-young) musician who has taken on board enough theory and is burning to put in practice. Why? Because the source material is so rich in songwriting detail. Pop and rock music is usually discussed on its textural terms, its sound and its feel, but the truth is that so much was happening on these albums recorded between 1963 and 1969, texturally as well as compositionally, that the 700-odd pages of this book feel almost too short.
This is a patient look at how the various elements came together in the Beatles' work. First, they were obsessed by chords. Why did guitar bands seem passé in 1962? Because they were all copying one another in trotting out the clichés. But what made a song stand apart was not that it fulfilled certain rules, but that it surprised or captivated the listener. The Beatles were already trying to do that as teenagers with the chords they were learning from a whole range of songs. The fact that they played guitars was the key point here. An inquisitive guitarist can go into daring sonic territory just by sliding relatively basic shapes around (diminished, m7b5, augmented chords). A keyboard player cannot do this quite as easily, let alone string or horn sections. The Beatles were already playing around with the use of trickier and more interesting chords in 1961-62. This just grew as they started to realise what they could do to change the rules with the way these chords were married to melodies.
They were not doing this intellectually, but by ear, meaning they were searching for the effects among the chords and structures they had learned, and leaving them for others to transcribe or define. They were looking for that different "thing" about a song, unlike so many of their peers. Which is not to say that it is not possible to write great songs with a simple structure, but it's going to need that "thing" somewhere, or it will bore the ears. And if it's copying someone else's "thing", then even more so. Could it still be a hit? Maybe. Familiarity, even over-familiarity has its market. But will it live on forever or fire up whole generations to express themselves? Unlikely.
Another key point in this book is the way the Beatles modulated between different keys to provide light and shade to their different sections, often ensuring there was a distinction between verse and chorus (one minor then the other major, or vice versa). They also used the lyrics to signpost the way these changes were meant to make the listener feel. A lot of work went into making sure that the feel of the song suited the lyrical concerns. Here the sophistication is actually enormous, and Pedler is particularly impressed by the way McCartney was able to blend lyrics and melodies to create compelling tensions (cf. Yesterday, Things We Said Today, Michelle) and Lennon was able to use daring discordancy and shifting figures, while creating an extraordinary mood (cf. Being For The Benefit of Mr Kite, I'm So Tired and especially Happiness Is a Warm Gun). George was also an incredibly thoughtful songwriter, who used the music to underscore the overriding message, even when being ostensibly blasé and cruel (cf. If I Needed Someone) or despondent (cf. While My Guitar Gently Weeps).
Then added to that dominion over keys and modulations and lyrical accompaniment came an extraordinary ability to colour the songs with harmonies, breaking rules all over the place which are now no longer considered rules. If you think that the Byrds or Crosby, Stills and Nash or the Eagles are the epitome of harmonies, listening to them alongside what the Beatles were doing seems static and rather staid. They colour the tunes but generally without taking them anywhere or deepening their import. The Beatles as a matter of course, and even on some of their lesser tunes, forged perfect settings that were able to survive any number of changes in taste over the years. Listen to Rubber Soul and its daring chord work married to incisive harmonies and it never gets old. Listen to A Hard Day's Night and the way its harmonies and chord structures put into practice Cole Porter's gem of a line "how strange the change from major to minor" over a WHOLE ALBUM. And the effect is not just "strange", but moving, unsettling, exhilarating, poignant, devastating, exciting and astounding. Listen to the White Album and the way the rules and times no longer exist. The 1920s and 30s come back (Honey Pie, Good Night), childhood sits on your shoulder and starts to morph (Bungalow Bill, Piggies, Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, Cry Baby Cry), early rock and roll is subverted with a wink and a grin (Back in the USSR), songs range over the whole gamut of time signatures (Happiness is a Warm Gun, Martha My Dear), gentle nature boy-type back-to-basics steps in but with harmonic sophistication (Dear Prudence, Blackbird, I Will, Mother Nature's Son, Julia), there are stunning Lennon mood pieces (I'm So Tired, Sexy Sadie) and 1970s stadium rock is foreshadowed and invented (Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me and My Monkey, Helter Skelter). All along with a clutch of experimental items that opened many eyes to the possibilities of thinking outside the box (Wild Honey Pie, Why Don't We Do It In The Road, Revolution 9).
And all this is without discussing Revolver and Sgt Pepper, which get discussed plenty enough, or the early albums, where they showed what could be done with just a four-piece and a few hours in the studio, and also before we get to Abbey Road, where time stands still for us as the Beatles tinker with the workings of songcraft. There are sonic advances (the intro to Come Together, the playout to I Want You), classic but forward-looking song structures (Something, Here Comes The Sun), hard rock (I Want You (She's So Heavy), Oh! Darling), more sturdy children's songs (Octopus's Garden, Maxwell's Silver Hammer), classically-inspired fantasias (Because) and, of course, the whole mighty song suite on Side 2, which is a dazzling display of virtuosity and a last-ditch to keep the egos together that had been pumped up by their absurdly extended brilliance over the decade. There was so much hard work in this career, and so little repetition and playing safe. There was such a desire for transcendence that of course what followed it in their Beatles-afterlife careers was bound to pale in comparison.
This is a patient look at how the various elements came together in the Beatles' work. First, they were obsessed by chords. Why did guitar bands seem passé in 1962? Because they were all copying one another in trotting out the clichés. But what made a song stand apart was not that it fulfilled certain rules, but that it surprised or captivated the listener. The Beatles were already trying to do that as teenagers with the chords they were learning from a whole range of songs. The fact that they played guitars was the key point here. An inquisitive guitarist can go into daring sonic territory just by sliding relatively basic shapes around (diminished, m7b5, augmented chords). A keyboard player cannot do this quite as easily, let alone string or horn sections. The Beatles were already playing around with the use of trickier and more interesting chords in 1961-62. This just grew as they started to realise what they could do to change the rules with the way these chords were married to melodies.
They were not doing this intellectually, but by ear, meaning they were searching for the effects among the chords and structures they had learned, and leaving them for others to transcribe or define. They were looking for that different "thing" about a song, unlike so many of their peers. Which is not to say that it is not possible to write great songs with a simple structure, but it's going to need that "thing" somewhere, or it will bore the ears. And if it's copying someone else's "thing", then even more so. Could it still be a hit? Maybe. Familiarity, even over-familiarity has its market. But will it live on forever or fire up whole generations to express themselves? Unlikely.
Another key point in this book is the way the Beatles modulated between different keys to provide light and shade to their different sections, often ensuring there was a distinction between verse and chorus (one minor then the other major, or vice versa). They also used the lyrics to signpost the way these changes were meant to make the listener feel. A lot of work went into making sure that the feel of the song suited the lyrical concerns. Here the sophistication is actually enormous, and Pedler is particularly impressed by the way McCartney was able to blend lyrics and melodies to create compelling tensions (cf. Yesterday, Things We Said Today, Michelle) and Lennon was able to use daring discordancy and shifting figures, while creating an extraordinary mood (cf. Being For The Benefit of Mr Kite, I'm So Tired and especially Happiness Is a Warm Gun). George was also an incredibly thoughtful songwriter, who used the music to underscore the overriding message, even when being ostensibly blasé and cruel (cf. If I Needed Someone) or despondent (cf. While My Guitar Gently Weeps).
Then added to that dominion over keys and modulations and lyrical accompaniment came an extraordinary ability to colour the songs with harmonies, breaking rules all over the place which are now no longer considered rules. If you think that the Byrds or Crosby, Stills and Nash or the Eagles are the epitome of harmonies, listening to them alongside what the Beatles were doing seems static and rather staid. They colour the tunes but generally without taking them anywhere or deepening their import. The Beatles as a matter of course, and even on some of their lesser tunes, forged perfect settings that were able to survive any number of changes in taste over the years. Listen to Rubber Soul and its daring chord work married to incisive harmonies and it never gets old. Listen to A Hard Day's Night and the way its harmonies and chord structures put into practice Cole Porter's gem of a line "how strange the change from major to minor" over a WHOLE ALBUM. And the effect is not just "strange", but moving, unsettling, exhilarating, poignant, devastating, exciting and astounding. Listen to the White Album and the way the rules and times no longer exist. The 1920s and 30s come back (Honey Pie, Good Night), childhood sits on your shoulder and starts to morph (Bungalow Bill, Piggies, Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, Cry Baby Cry), early rock and roll is subverted with a wink and a grin (Back in the USSR), songs range over the whole gamut of time signatures (Happiness is a Warm Gun, Martha My Dear), gentle nature boy-type back-to-basics steps in but with harmonic sophistication (Dear Prudence, Blackbird, I Will, Mother Nature's Son, Julia), there are stunning Lennon mood pieces (I'm So Tired, Sexy Sadie) and 1970s stadium rock is foreshadowed and invented (Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me and My Monkey, Helter Skelter). All along with a clutch of experimental items that opened many eyes to the possibilities of thinking outside the box (Wild Honey Pie, Why Don't We Do It In The Road, Revolution 9).
And all this is without discussing Revolver and Sgt Pepper, which get discussed plenty enough, or the early albums, where they showed what could be done with just a four-piece and a few hours in the studio, and also before we get to Abbey Road, where time stands still for us as the Beatles tinker with the workings of songcraft. There are sonic advances (the intro to Come Together, the playout to I Want You), classic but forward-looking song structures (Something, Here Comes The Sun), hard rock (I Want You (She's So Heavy), Oh! Darling), more sturdy children's songs (Octopus's Garden, Maxwell's Silver Hammer), classically-inspired fantasias (Because) and, of course, the whole mighty song suite on Side 2, which is a dazzling display of virtuosity and a last-ditch to keep the egos together that had been pumped up by their absurdly extended brilliance over the decade. There was so much hard work in this career, and so little repetition and playing safe. There was such a desire for transcendence that of course what followed it in their Beatles-afterlife careers was bound to pale in comparison.
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