Любопытная расстановка всех песен Битлов от худших к лучшим, по мнению критика. Про каждую песню написан абзац, иногда интересное, иногда не очень. Мне особенно понравились наезды, например:
194. “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,” The Beatles (“The White Album”) (1968): The whimsy will continue until morale improves. Definitely in the top five of Most Irritating Songs Paul McCartney Ever Wrote. It took a long time for the band to get this right in the studio. No one liked it; but it was reportedly Lennon who finally sat down and banged the piano part out appropriately. This is a song that isn’t about anything in the first place; the last two verses are the same except for having Desmond and Molly’s names switched out, but McCartney’s vocal gets more and more excited. Newsflash: No one cares about Desmond and Molly Jones.
193. “Your Mother Should Know,” Magical Mystery Tour (1967): [...] The lyrics are inane even by McCartney standards.
132. “I Want You (She’s So Heavy),” Abbey Road (1969): A tedious workout. It sounded novel at the time, and there’s some good sound, but it goes on for nearly eight minutes. I respect that Lennon is trying to strip down his work to elements, lose his ego, profess his love for Ono, and disappear to be reborn, all that shit. It’s just a little artless.
Мне "взрослые" рассказывали, что якобы на изданной в СССР пластинке Битлов песня "Облади облада" называлась "Оглади оглада" - во избежание неблагозвучности. Не знаю, правда ли - гугл ничего такого не выгугливает.
Сверху Битлы, снизу - Дублинцы. Нет, не по душе мне хипстеры.
As I went down to Dublin city, at the hour of twelve at night, Who should I see but a Spanish lady, washing her feet by candlelight. First she washed them, then she dried them over a fire of amber coal, In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet about the soul
CHORUS: Whack fol the toora, toora laddy Whack fol the foora loora lay
As I came back through Dublin city at the hour of half past eight Who should I spy but the Spanish lady brushing her hair in the broad daylight. First she tossed it, then she brushed it, on her lap was a silver comb In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so fair since I did roam. CHORUS
As I went back through Dublin city as the sun began to set Who should I spy but the Spanish lady catching a moth in a golden net. When she saw me then she fled me lifting her petticoat over her knee In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so shy as the Spanish lady. CHORUS
I've wandered north and I've wandered south through Stonybatter and Patrick's Close Up and around the Gloucester Diamond and back by Napper Tandy's house. Old age has laid her hand on me cold as a fire of ashy coals In all my life I ne'er did see a maid so sweet as the Spanish lady. CHORUS