Kinks 1: You Really Got Me

Often considered one of the best bands of the British Invasion, the Kinks began as just another London-based white R&B outfit. Then Ray Davies started writing songs for the band, and thus began a career and a rabid cult following. (We considered writing “kult”, but it’s too easy to overdo it on the letter K, so we’ll try to avoid that.)

By the end of the ‘60s, Ray (and the Kinks) would redefine the concept album, and continue to chase the perfect story through the ’70. But that was all in the future. Like everybody else who arrived in 1964, they have a discography that’s not easy to navigate. At home, their singles and LPs didn’t always overlap, and EPs were frequent. Here in the US, their label (Reprise) did their best to soak all they could out of what was available.

Their first American LP wisely took its name from their first hit single, and the resultant You Really Got Me merely presented the first British LP less three tracks. That hit single, one of the greatest rock ‘n roll tracks ever, is the best thing on the album, which leans more heavily on covers than Ray’s originals. And those are pretty good. While catchy, “So Mystifying” is a rewrite of “It’s All Over Now”, while “Just Can’t Go To Sleep” is a little better, despite its structural similarity to the more enduring “Stop Your Sobbing” on side two.

Dave Davies was a better guitar player than a singer, his fretwork giving Keith Richards a run for his money. “Beautiful Delilah”, “Long Tall Shorty” and “I’ve Been Driving On Bald Mountain” (the latter sporting a nice acoustic guitar, but coming two tracks after “Bald Headed Woman”, also foisted by producer and copyright holder Shel Talmy on the Who) spotlight his nasal, breathless yell. But Ray wasn’t much better on the covers; witness Bo Diddley’s “Cadillac”, “Too Much Monkey Business” and particularly the anemic take on “Got Love If You Want It”.

Obviously pushed into doing an album before they were ready, You Really Got Me is not a stellar debut on par with those of their countrymen. As London art school types go, at this juncture the Stones were a better band, with better material.

When Rhino reissued a handful of early Kinks albums in 1988, You Really Got Me retained its title, but replicated the British LP lineup, and added three early single tracks (including “Long Tall Sally”, which both precedes and pales to the Beatles’ version) to the CD. These days, all the bases are covered by the deluxe version of Kinks, which expands on the British update from 1998, with both mono and stereo versions of the album, timely singles and EP tracks, and a handful of BBC sessions. Taken all together, it’s a better representation of what the band, and especially Ray, could do.

The Kinks You Really Got Me (1964)—2½
Current CD equivalent: Kinks

Bob Dylan 58: 50th Anniversary Collection 1964

Another Christmas present arrived from Bob Dylan in the form of the third limited-release collection of copyright busters. This time, nine LPs cover the extraneous material, filling in the holes around the one album he recorded in 1964, and the performances already available on various Bootleg Series. This stuff has long been documented, and one wonders if the producers merely follow the lead of certain websites.

A single visit to the studio in June was the source for Another Side Of Bob Dylan, and two sides’ worth of outtakes from it form the centerpiece of this set. Two incomplete, forced takes of “Black Crow Blues”, both on the guitar, demonstrate why the one on the album has piano. A 44-second excerpt of “Mr. Tambourine Man” seems to be included just because it can be, but four separate takes of “I Shall Be Free No. 10”, some with different words, show both how and why it was edited on the LP.

A tape recorded with Eric Von Schmidt (the blues guitar player he’d met in the green pastures of Harvard University) spans three sides and follows the pair running through blues riffs, R&B covers, silly impromptu songs and what appears to be the first recorded performance of “Tambourine Man”. If you’d rather hear him spar vocally with Joan Baez, four tinny “duets” are placed where they belong.

The rest of the material chronicles various live performances, beginning with a short set from Canadian television that closes with a nice version of “Restless Farewell”. Two of the records cover a London performance two years to the day before the notorious “Albert Hall” concert, recorded in excellent quality. “Walls Of Red Wing” and “Eternal Circle” are the rarities here, along with another “Restless Farewell”. The concerts on either side of the Halloween Philharmonic Hall show are, unfortunately, barely listenable; the intercom-quality sound in Philadelphia obscures the crowd’s laughter at “I Don’t Believe You” and their wonder at “It’s Alright Ma”, and renders the variations in “Talkin’ World War III Blues” inaudible. The California shows are a bit clearer but marred by the taper’s conversations. These would never have passed for official releases, so having them here to “protect” their copyright is laughable.

Somewhere out there somebody spent lots of money on one of the thousand copies of this set, and generously shared it over the Internet. Some people will buy anything.

Bob Dylan 50th Anniversary Collection 1964 (2014)—2½
CD availability: none; LP only

Simon & Garfunkel 1: Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.

But for an odd whim by a hip producer, people may never have heard of Simon & Garfunkel, nor might the artists have recorded anything past this first album. They had had a few prior hits, in the late-‘50s as Tom and Jerry, even getting to appear on American Bandstand. A few years at college kept them busy when stardom failed to happen, and then when the folk music boom hit, the boys were right on top of it.

Armed with an acoustic guitar and sweet harmonies, the Mutt and Jeff of Forest Hills recorded their debut LP over a few weeks in March of 1964, in defiance of the British Invasion threatening the business. Of the twelve songs on Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M., five come from the pen of Paul Simon. “Bleecker Street” paints a portrait of that iconic avenue. “Sparrow” is an allegory of some sort, but “He Was My Brother” is more direct, a timely elegy for a Freedom Rider. The title track is the striking departure of the set, a monologue from a cheap apartment, made all the more pretentious by the reference to “pieces of silver”. But it would be “The Sound Of Silence” that would endure, an incredibly poetic piece of work striking for its imagery, Garfunkel’s sweet voice, and Simon’s monotonic bleat.

The rest of the album is a mixed bag that mostly comes across as folk-lite, and it’s no wonder that the album didn’t sell. Perhaps there weren’t a lot of songs for affluent Jewish kids to make commercial, which would explain why such spirituals as “You Can Tell The World” and “Go Tell It On The Mountain” appear, along with an arrangement from a Catholic mass. More direct, if naïve, are “The Sun Is Burning” and “Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream”, the latter sporting an ill-advised banjo. And in tribute to the kid from Minnesota, the boys harmonize on “The Times They Are A-Changin’” and even take a stab at “Peggy-O”, which Dylan had included on his first album.

So Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. is a very earnest collection of music that wasn’t about to change the world, but taken in context with what they would eventually achieve, it’s a nice snapshot. It’s certainly pleasant, and in places pretty. Given the dozens of similar records coming out at the time, we’ll leave it to the experts to rule whether these actually were “exciting new sounds in the folk tradition”.

Simon & Garfunkel Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. (1964)—3
2001 CD reissue: same as 1964, plus 3 extra tracks

Beach Boys 8: Christmas Album

Like any red-blooded American boy, Brian Wilson loved Christmas. Likely influenced by Phil Spector’s album as well as their own “Little Saint Nick” from the year before (think a thematic cross between a little Deuce Coupe and a certain sleigh), The Beach Boys' Christmas Album was released a month after their live album, Capitol having zero qualms about loading up the shelves with their artists.

Five of the songs are Brian Wilson originals, played (most likely) by the band themselves. “Little Saint Nick” is still the best meld of the holiday spirit and the band’s brand. “The Man With All The Toys” has a jarring hiccup of a supporting part, “Santa’s Beard” and “Merry Christmas Baby” present Mike at his most nasal, while Al is credited with lead on “Christmas Day”. Outside of the occasional quote in a guitar solo, these are pop tunes with specific lyrics. Based on these it’s just as well that Brian didn’t try to write a whole album of Christmas songs, else his nervous breakdown might’ve been sooner or more severe.

To complete the album, the rest of the program consists of holiday favorites given lush, Four Freshman-style arrangements, much more typical of Johnny Mathis. Brian sings a couple of the prettier ones alone, but they all come together for the likes of “Frosty The Snowman” and “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town”, the latter with an unfortunate “circus” motif in between verses. They give their best blend to “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”, and bury some a cappella gymnastics under brother Dennis’s “special” spoken message over “Auld Lang Syne”.

Despite the promise of side one, this is not a rockin’ Christmas album, yet it does provide an interesting transition to the more advanced music Brian would create in 1965. The album never really went out of print, and even appeared on CD a few times, once with bonus tracks. At the end of the ‘90s, Ultimate Christmas more than doubled the original lineup with further extras, most notably “Child Of Winter”, a standalone single from 1974, and selections from the band’s aborted 1977 Christmas album. One of these, “Santa’s Got An Airplane”, updated the mode of travel with help of the unfinished late-‘60s track “Loop De Loop”. “Winter Symphony” is a promising Brian Wilson track that could stand to be slower and not as busy. There’s even a rare Dennis recording for that cult base. As with most Beach Boys music post-Endless Summer, these later tracks are simply not as strong as the prime material from the original era. (This too went out of print, superseded by Christmas With The Beach Boys, which repackaged the tracks but left out “Christmas Time Is Here Again”, which was basically “Peggy Sue” with new words. Their a cappella rendition of “The Lord’s Prayer”, the B-side to “Little Saint Nick”, hasn’t been included on any of these CDs since 1991, but has turned up elsewhere.)

The Beach Boys The Beach Boys’ Christmas Album (1964)—3
1991 CD reissue: same as 1964, plus 4 extra tracks

Bob Dylan 45: Live 1964

With this release it seemed as if the Bootleg Series was getting serious, and truly trying to become an entity on its own outside of throwing fans a bone every couple of hits. Live 1964 gets points for its general content over brilliance. It’s an important show, one of the few from the period smack dab between Another Side Of Bob Dylan and Bringing It All Back Home. To boot, many songs are performed for the first time, along with a few that never made it onto records otherwise.

Recorded on Halloween night (“I’ve got my Bob Dylan mask on,” sez our hero before adding, “I’m masquerading!”), the mood overall is warm and friendly. It’s apparent that he’s fairly stoned, laughing in between most of the songs, and even during some.

He’s at an odd juncture in his career; still singing so-called protest songs, but already adding some more poetic songs, not just from his most recent album, but from one yet to be recorded. Here we have the first airings of such classics as “Gates Of Eden” and “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)”, introduced under alternate titles amidst much giggling. “Mr. Tambourine Man” already has enough street cred to be appreciated. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now” gets a few laughs from the crowd, but that’s nothing compared to “I Don’t Believe You”, wherein he starts the song but can’t remember the first verse, leaving it to a few astute, heavily accented New Yorkers in the front row to remind him.

It’s plain he’s very much into his new material, which makes the choice of songs after the intermission so strange. “Talkin’ World War III Blues” plays to the crowd and “Hattie Carroll” pulls the right heartstrings, but his delivery of “Don’t Think Twice” is truly bizarre. The song is mostly played straight, but notable for the way he builds each line up to an atonal yelling of the word “babe”. Joan Baez joins him for a few on the encore, and doesn’t add much, except to underline how out of place she is duetting on such lyrics as “Mama, You Been On My Mind” (which certainly wasn’t written for her) and “It Ain’t Me, Babe” (which may well have been, making her obliviousness just plain unsettling).

Live 1964 was an obvious choice for a Bootleg Series installment, being that it was well recorded and had been a heavily pirated set for some time. Now that Bob was taking his sweet time between new albums, if he was willing to let stuff like this out, all the better.

Bob Dylan Live 1964: Concert At Philharmonic Hall—The Bootleg Series Vol. 6 (2004)—4

Rolling Stones 2: 12 x 5

While a somewhat imaginative title, 12 x 5 came a few months after a British EP called Five By Five, recorded at the historic Chess Studios in Chicago. Those five tracks, steeped in the electric blues they adored, would represent the better half of this American concoction.

Right off the bat the album gets points for kicking off with “Around And Around”, one of their best Chuck Berry covers. “Confessin’ The Blues” is a much slower blues, Mick blowing harp better and Ian Stewart running all over the 88s, while “Empty Heart” is basically “Fortune Teller”, albeit it a decent lift. The version of “Time Is On My Side” here was the first one and the single, with way too much organ compared to the remake. “Good Times, Bad Times” is a Jagger/Richards original, built around a 12-string and kick-drum, and nothing like the Zeppelin song of the same name. “It’s All Over Now” was a hit single the summer before, and an excellent, original arrangement of a song they didn’t write.

“2120 South Michigan Avenue” was the address of the Chess studios, yet this organ-based instrumental sounds more like the Memphis or Stax sound of Booker T and the MG’s. “Under The Boardwalk” proves these guys shouldn’t croon, but Keith obviously loved playing that 12-string, and would do so on “Congratulations”, another song whose title would be given to much better songs. “Grown Up Wrong” is another original recorded before they knew how to arrange such things. “If You Need Me” is a brief but excellent version of the Solomon Burke staple, and it all comes down to a revved-up take on “Susie Q”.

An album in name only, 12 x 5 has more good than bad, but it’s not of classic caliber. But they were recording almost as often as they were gigging, so they would have more for the label to exploit soon enough.

The Rolling Stones 12 x 5 (1964)—3

Rolling Stones 1: England’s Newest Hit Makers

The Rolling Stones are unique among their generation for many reasons, but one of the biggest is that over three decades into the digital era, their catalog is a complete mess. For starters, unlike many of their contemporaries, their CD standard is based not on the original British albums but the American ones. Perhaps we can thank Allen Klein for that; the Stones catalog came out on CD before the Beatles’ did, and it’s remained the same ever since, with few exceptions. (Admittedly, those late-‘80s CDs were a sonic improvement on the “electronically reprocessed for stereo” mixes on the original LPs.) In the new century, the ABKCO-owned catalog was revamped again, with various British albums added to the racks alongside the American ones. Then, when the mono mixes of their ‘60s studio output were boxed up in a set, the five British albums were interspersed with six American albums, which means a couple dozen songs are repeated here and there.

Not that the band itself hasn’t always put the fans first. Since their inception, in America alone they’ve put out exactly 25 studio albums, plus 13 compilations and 10 live albums; that last number doesn’t include the “official bootlegs” they’ve made available for download in recent years. 1980 was the last time a studio album was preceded by another; after that every studio album has been followed by either a live album, a collection, or both. The greed of ABKCO is surpassed only by that of Mick Jagger.

They started out as an R&B band, and it would be several years before they successfully mastered the album format (unlike the Beatles, who defined it, and the Who, who thrived in it, both during the same period). Thanks to record company miscomprehension, the first Stones albums were marketed to the teenybopper crowd, and why not. With the super-hyped title England’s Newest Hit Makers, their American debut was pretty close to their first, self-titled British LP, and therefore nicely shows what they had to offer this early.

Their own writing was neither up to snuff nor particularly encouraged. But as modern blues machines they were turning out quality, if not definitive, versions of “Not Fade Away”, “Route 66” and “I Just Want To Make Love To You” among their covers. That would be young Brian Jones blowing away on most of the harmonica (since Mick hadn’t learned it that well yet) and playing the more complicated slide guitar; it was his band in the first place, as is most obvious here. Of course, the better lifts from Chuck Berry would be Keith the Human Riff himself, and that’s the sound that would be most consistent over the next fifty years. (The wheezy organ on “Now I’ve Got A Witness” is courtesy of Ian Stewart, who always sounded better on piano, and never played anything but major chords.)

Outside of a couple of group-credited tunes, the only Jagger/Richards original here is “Tell Me”, driven by Keith’s 12-string as he mewls along with Mick on the choruses. Even for an album just over half an hour long, this one lasts over four minutes. (Another prize moment: Charlie Watts’ fills following “knock on my door”.) Lovelorn Mick doesn’t sound quite as natural as the horny toad in “I’m A King Bee” and “Walking The Dog”, while the latter does provide stereophonic proof as to why Brian Jones was usually prevented from singing.

Having been (mostly) conceived as an album (as opposed to a bunch of singles or stopgap EPs), England’s Newest Hit Makers is a strong debut, suffering from little record company interference. The production was a little primitive, but Charlie’s drums crackle, and even Bill Wyman knew how to make his bass heard. A good start, and who knew how long they’d last?

The Rolling Stones England’s Newest Hit Makers (1964)—4

Bob Dylan 4: Another Side Of Bob Dylan

Having firmly typecast himself as a dour troubadour, Bob took a left turn with his next collection of songs. Another Side Of Bob Dylan—which either got its title from his producer, against the artist’s instinct, or that's another myth—was recorded in a single night over several bottles of Beaujolais, and leans heavily more towards love songs and imagery, pointedly away from social commentary. It remains one of his best.

The jaunty opener “All I Really Want To Do” uses a rhyming dictionary to tell the jokes, and you can hear him laughing in between verses. This was an easy cover for the next year’s folk-rockers. “Black Crow Blues” is a sloppy piano blues, using that instrument for the first time on a Dylan LP. The haunting “Spanish Harlem Incident” is rich with summer heat, evoking scenes of young men on city street corners once upon a time. Those looking for a Big Statement would have their hands full with “Chimes Of Freedom”. It takes some patience as his voice loses the path, but there is some incredible imagery in all those words. To defuse the gravitas comes “I Shall Be Free No. 10”, which improves on its predecessor two albums earlier with a better riff (learned in England) and much funnier lines. Closing out the side is “To Ramona”, another tender love song that demonstrates the man’s impeccable phrasing.

Side two begins with “Motorpsycho Nitemare”, which drags out the old traveling salesman story with some contemporary pop culture and a melody that you’ll hear again. You’ll also find yourself picking up the various non sequitirs before long. Similarly, “My Back Pages” takes the “Hattie Carroll” melody from the last album and adds new words; it would be done better in a definitive version by the Byrds after both they and he had moved on from this point. The masterful “I Don’t Believe You” takes a wry look at the aftermath of a one-night stand, and is very clever coming oddly enough from the man’s jilted point of view. While lambasted by several authors for its unnecessary airing of dirty laundry, “Ballad In Plain D” is a remarkable composition with lines so alternatively tender and aching. The final verse makes it all worthwhile. But after those eight minutes of heartbreak, it’s the narrator who comes out on top, as “It Ain’t Me Babe” ends the album on a defiant note.

Another Side Of Bob Dylan may not have pleased people hoping he’d continue to explain the world to them, but it has endured as a collection of songs from that brief period amidst his journey from protest singer to absurdist visionary. Crack a bottle of cheap wine, open the windows, and let the songs unfold from the speakers. Give in to the simplicity of the songs, and you’ll want to go back again and again.

Bob Dylan Another Side Of Bob Dylan (1964)—4

Bob Dylan 3: The Times They Are A-Changin’

On his third album, Bob was deep into the role of protest singer. There’s something rough about the bleak cover shot that is mirrored in the words. And that doesn’t even call into account the ones on the back cover, which give a clue to his next direction. The Times They Are A-Changin’ isn’t easy listening, but is a successful progression to his next stage.

The title track isn’t about to convert anyone who doesn’t like his voice, but it’s still one of his better protest songs. To this day it evokes a mood of change, however futile. “Ballad Of Hollis Brown” is a stark painting, and you can almost feel the wind blowing through the dead weeds. Years later it would give inspiration to the plight of the family farmer. “With God On Our Side” isn’t an easy listen, as he keeps changing speeds, but the point is well made. Just so you know he’s not all about sloganeering, “One Too Many Mornings” takes a detour towards a city bedroom, and paints as bleak a portrait as any other on this album. (And it took no less a sage than George Starostin to point out that the melody is identical to that of the title track.) “North Country Blues” paints another sad portrait of poverty, this time from the view of a young woman in a mining town.

“Only A Pawn In Their Game” tells of the murder of the head of the NAACP. As another of his civil rights anthems, he was starting to get pigeonholed as a civil rights activist. This notion is immediately dispelled by “Boots Of Spanish Leather”, which takes the melody of “Girl From The North Country” and expands it into a compelling tale of separation. It’s an absolutely heartbreaking song that begins as a conversation, and then suddenly and pointedly she stops answering when it’s her turn. The final lines will catch in your heartstrings. While “When The Ship Comes In” seems almost Biblical, according to Joan Baez it’s a tale of imagined retribution against a nasty hotel clerk who didn’t like how Bob was dressed; somehow it works on all levels. “Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll” may be just another protest song, but it explores so many more levels. Even if we don’t have all the facts—maybe William Zantzinger didn’t really hit her with a cane, and why should we assume that she was black and he was white?—the scene he lays out is all too real to ignore. And “Restless Farewell” is just that, another edgy litany.

Even if you think of The Times They Are A-Changin’ as just another protest album, it’s still a good one. But there’s enough on here that contrasts that stark face on the cover to suggest that the kids had something else to say. And he would.

Bob Dylan The Times They Are A-Changin’ (1964)—4

Beatles 20: Hollywood Bowl

It had been common knowledge for years that the boys’ concerts at the Hollywood Bowl were professionally recorded, yet had sat in the can due to the equivalent sound levels of Beatle vocals (when the mikes worked), instruments and several thousand fans. By 1977, great strides had been made in sound separation, so George Martin sat down with tapes from one 1964 show and two 1965 shows, and managed to combine them into a fairly cohesive unit just over half an hour. Although the result of the combination was something of a compromise, thanks of the quality of the recording compared to audience tapes of other shows, The Beatles At The Hollywood Bowl has endured as a definitive document of a time long past.

Of course, there were plenty of other live performances captured for posterity, at the very least visually. The 1965 Shea Stadium concert and a few 1966 Tokyo concerts were expertly filmed and broadcast, and most of their final show from Candlestick Park in 1966 has been circulating for years. But for reasons known only to Apple, none of these have been cleared for official release, either on audio or video. (There is another entity of live recordings that have managed to sneak into the racks of legitimate record dealers. The 1962 Hamburg tapes began their interminable saturation around the same time as the Hollywood Bowl set. The first release on the Lingasong label usually gets mentioned in the official discographies; the music itself is nothing special, while it has its moments, again, as a historical artifact.)

It took nearly four full decades for the Hollywood Bowl album to be re-released, and then as a tie-in with a major motion picture helmed by Opie Cunningham. Decent-sounding bootlegs had demonstrated the occasional sloppy performance, repetition and equipment malfunction throughout each of the performances, though only the most naïve of Beatlemaniacs would expect Apple to issue a complete show from either year, at any price. Instead, the 1977 album was reissued in its original hodgepodge sequence, remixed from better quality tapes to bring out more of the music, with four extra songs tacked on at the end (one of which had already appeared on a CD single in the Anthology era). Even the original cover, with its understated charm, was changed to hype the movie, which itself was something of a misfire. (What’s more, it was released in theaters in a double feature with an audio-visual upgrade of the Shea Stadium concert film, which still remains unavailable commercially in any format.)

Nitpicking aside, the music is great, right from the abbreviated blast through “Twist And Shout”. Six of the songs are covers, songs they’d been playing for years. We can already hear waning enthusiasm on the parts of John and George, but their attitude didn’t dilute their strumming capabilities. George’s 12-string Rickenbacker dominates the 1964 tracks, and boy, does it shimmer. John always seemed to screw up the lyrics to “Help!”, but listen to Paul’s bass while he’s singing “All My Loving”, and marvel at the power of “Things We Said Today”. To this day we don’t know why, of all the songs they could’ve chosen, “Baby’s In Black” was a staple of their set, but there it is and there the new album ends—much too quickly, just like their concerts.

The Beatles The Beatles At The Hollywood Bowl (1977)—3½
2016 Live At The Hollywood Bowl: same as 1977, plus 4 extra tracks

Beatles 4: Story and ‘65

A variety of fly-by-night companies had been putting out so-called interview records since February 7th, so Capitol decided to jump in with their own “definitive documentary”. Narrated by three soundalike LA DJs, The Beatles’ Story throws us right into the eye of Beatlemania’s storm, with the occasional respite in soundbites from the boys and snippets of songs. A live performance of “Twist And Shout” from the Hollywood Bowl can be heard briefly, but most of the incidental music is courtesy of the Hollyridge Strings, Capitol’s house Muzak orchestra, who often had their albums spotlit as “more great Beatles albums for your collection” on contemporary back covers. The track titles are fairly negligible except when dealing with each member, while the gatefold cover features black-and-white photos from the Washington Coliseum concert and the JFK press conference. This two-record set totals roughly 50 minutes and has endured as a collectors-only piece, and never appeared on CD until its inclusion as part of the U.S. Albums box set (and not available separately, unlike the rest of that box). As Beatles trivialities go, it’s not essential.

Two weeks later, the first American Beatle Xmas season arrived with a brand new worldwide hit single: “I Feel Fine” and “She’s A Woman”. Both were featured on the brand new Beatles ‘65 with gobs of reverb under the supervision of Dave Dexter, Jr. Most of the other tracks come from the Beatles For Sale LP, which was waiting under most of the Christmas trees in the UK. Even after all these years, many longtime fans continue to equate the holidays with the Beatles.

Such nostalgia and the similarity to Beatles For Sale make ‘65 a collection that has aged well. The country sensibilities and world-weary tone in such songs as “No Reply”, “I’m A Loser”, “Baby’s In Black” and “I’ll Follow The Sun” are intact. Ringo and George get the spotlight on a pair of Carl Perkins tunes, “Honey Don’t” and “Everybody’s Got To Be My Baby”. The hit singles and even “I’ll Be Back”, left over from A Hard Day’s Night, where it was the perfect closer, fit neatly with the other tunes. And your dedicated correspondent may be the only person on the planet who likes “Mr. Moonlight”, though we can all agree on “Rock And Roll Music”. (Cover tunes had become necessary if they were going to get an album out by year’s end.)

It’s a solid if short set; none of the Capitol LPs released before 1967 broke the 30-minute barrier save The Beatles’ Story. The liner notes didn’t improve at all, yet somehow they balance the photos of the boys holding umbrellas, rakes and large metal springs. (It’s supposed to illustrate the four seasons. Get it?) The reverb-heavy mix made its official digital-era debut in a limited box set in 2004, before the 11-track sequence was again part of the “U.S. Albums” releases ten years later, but using the 2009 remasters.

The Beatles The Beatles’ Story (1964)—2½
UK CD equivalent: none
The Beatles Beatles ‘65 (1964)—5
UK CD equivalent: A Hard Day’s Night/Beatles For Sale/Past Masters

Beatles 3: A Hard Day’s Night and Something New

United Artists had agreed to distribute the Beatles’ first film so they could get the soundtrack LP rights, not thinking that this phenomenon would last the year. Their version of A Hard Day’s Night was a mix between eight songs from the British LP interspersed with four laughable George Martin orchestrations that should offend jazz purists and Beatlemaniacs alike. The lush “And I Love Her” lends itself to Muzak, and the wacky waltz interpretation of the title track is just plain weird. To this day “This Boy” is still referred to on occasion as “Ringo’s Theme” due to its use in the film and on this album.

Yet there’s something wonderful about putting the needle down on side one and hearing that wonderful clang starting the title track. The energy keeps up through “Tell Me Why” and “I’ll Cry Instead” (shortlisted for the film but ultimately replaced in theaters by a reprise of “Can’t Buy Me Love”). George gets “I’m Happy Just To Dance With You”, “I Should Have Known Better” starts side two, and “If I Fell” and “And I Love Her” provide breathers.

While they didn’t gain the rights to the Hard Day’s Night soundtrack proper until the early ‘80s—whereupon it was reissued as is—Capitol was still able to exploit the individual songs all they wanted in 1964. This resulted in three singles containing six songs released within two weeks, simultaneous with the not-quite-accurately-titled Something New. This hodgepodge trumpets the inclusion of five songs from the smash hit movie, and also includes the other half of the Long Tall Sally EP, four songs from side two of the British Hard Day’s Night LP, and the German version of “I Want To Hold Your Hand”.

It’s a lopsided collection all right; the two covers from the EP —“Slow Down” and “Matchbox”—jar with the originals and the German novelty is just plain weird. “Things We Said Today” and “Any Time At All” are wonderful, but “When I Get Home” is one of our absolute least favorite Beatle songs. (“I’m gonna love her till the cows come home”? Really?) The liner notes border on the inane, and a cover shot from the Ed Sullivan show and a growing list of “more Beatles LPs for your collection” tap all the weak spots. (Oddly enough, the two cover songs were released as a single the following month, in a continual attempt to glut the charts. Somehow, Ringo’s attack on “Matchbox” hit #17, and “Slow Down”, complete with flubbed vocals by John, made it to #25.)

The British LP beats both hands down, and not just because every song was written by Lennon and McCartney. (More trivia: that version was one song short of their usual 14 tracks. We would have added “I Call Your Name” had we been consulted.) Of the two American options, Something New gets the nod as being more listenable but—especially considering the absence of the title track and that fantastic opening chord—it doesn’t quite make it as a souvenir from the film, which is mandatory viewing. (While Something New did surface on CD in 2004’s Capitol Albums, Vol. 1 box, the soundtrack didn’t get digitized until its 50th anniversary as part of the “U.S. Albums” releases, alongside Something New.)

The Beatles A Hard Day’s Night (1964)—3
UK CD equivalent: A Hard Day’s Night (Beatle tracks only)
The Beatles Something New (1964)—4
UK CD equivalent: A Hard Day’s Night/Past Masters

Beatles 2: Second Album

After most of With The Beatles was used for the first album, the rest would turn up on The Beatles’ Second Album, one of the most bonehead titles of its or any day. While Meet The Beatles! showcased the songwriting talents of the Lennon-McCartney team, the leftovers available for Second Album were mostly covers lumped together. They’re all good, of course, but the end result was a less than stellar follow-up.

Here’s where Capitol’s selections start to seem really arbitrary: they included “She Loves You” (a current hit on the tiny Swan label), two B-sides from 1963 (“I’ll Get You” and “Thank You Girl”), “You Can’t Do That” (the B-side of “Can’t Buy Me Love”, the current #1 single not included here) and half of the current British Long Tall Sally EP. It’s an odd set of all uptempo rockers, with sepia-toned photos from the first US visit on the cover—some of which are merely close-ups of hair-covered foreheads. (In fact, many cash-in collections purporting to have Beatle music sometimes sported drawings of hair on the covers to entice the unsuspecting youth.) Still, Capitol can be commended for collecting songs that would otherwise have stayed buried on singles and EPs, even if there wasn’t anything to please the grownups this time.

Ringo doesn’t get a song to sing, but George gets two, on covers of “Roll Over Beethoven” and “Devil In Her Heart”. Paul’s featured doing his best Little Richard on “Long Tall Sally”, but it’s John who gets to really shine on this album. “Money”, “You Really Got A Hold On Me” and “Please Mr. Postman” demonstrate why his is one of the best rock voices ever. And on his own compositions he adds some clever instrumental touches—the ska middle-eight in “I Call Your Name” and the clenched-fist guitar solo in “You Can’t Do That”.

Mathematically, it’s still a good album, but it doesn’t surpass the excellence of the debut. Luckily for everyone concerned, there was plenty more to come, and besides, at this point budding Beatlemaniacs were glad to have anything they could get their hands on. Some of them (not least Dave Marsh, who wrote a whole book “about” the album) positively adored Second Album, reverb and all, and would gladly shell out the bucks for The Capitol Albums, Vol. 1 in 2004 to get it on CD, and maybe even again in 2014 as part of the “U.S. Albums” releases.

The Beatles The Beatles’ Second Album (1964)—4
UK CD equivalent: With The Beatles/A Hard Day’s Night/Past Masters

Beatles 1: Meet The Beatles!

So this is where it all started. Derek Taylor, a longtime Beatle insider, called them “the twentieth century’s greatest romance”. That’s a pretty fair assessment, and one that’s not so obvious to those whose view of the band comes from a historical perspective. The Beatles influence still pervades pop culture, yet in subtle ways that make them easy to dismiss. That only makes it more fun for some of us to smile and nod whenever someone begrudgingly comes around to the idea that “maybe they were pretty good after all”. (On a strictly personal level, The Beatles still fascinate us, and while we listen to countless other things these days, too many things in our life revolve around those guys—hair, glasses, why we play music, etc.)

The music is timeless, obviously; otherwise we wouldn’t be talking about them today. For the price of fourteen CD packages—once available in a nifty box with a rolltop wooden cover, but now as a complete set in stereo, as well as a limited one in mono—you can get the whole picture, adhering more or less to the boys’ original intentions. But Americans of a certain vintage were introduced to the first half of the catalog via a slightly different context, and while the Beatles catalog has been standardized worldwide for decades now, some of us still hold a fondness for the way things used to be.

The repackaging of Beatles material started before they had even hit American shores. Vee-Jay’s Introducing The Beatles replicated Please Please Me, the first British album, almost track for track, with several cuts slipping in and out depending on the edition and cover. However, it was solely on the back of Capitol’s marketing machine that Vee-Jay’s album moved any copies.

In the UK, singles and LPs were considered separate entities that should not be crossbred. But in the US, you don’t look a gift horse in the wallet. Capitol’s first LP starts off with the smash single “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, followed by its American B-side, “I Saw Her Standing There”, and “This Boy”, the British B-side. The rest of Meet The Beatles! consists of eight songs from the British With The Beatles LP, which had been released the previous November, and sports a nearly identical cover design.

Following the one-two-three punch at the start, side one concludes with “It Won’t Be Long”, “All I’ve Got To Do” and “All My Loving”. Right there we have six songs that could be considered among their greatest. Side two isn’t as strong, but does give the less dominant members their own spotlights—George sings the first song he wrote, “Don’t Bother Me”, and Ringo attacks “I Wanna Be Your Man”, previously offered to the Rolling Stones. Capitol was also wise to include Paul’s cabaret bit—“Till There Was You” from The Music Man—to appeal to the parents. “Little Child”, which is over before you know it, and “Hold Me Tight”, which seems to slow down unintentionally, are goofy but fun, and “Not A Second Time” provides a striking closer.

All together it’s still a very entertaining album, packaged in that iconic sleeve. And the liner notes are priceless. Forty years later it was a selling point in the limited Capitol Albums, Vol. 1 box set, and maintained its headline status ten years after that, when the “U.S. Albums” series finally made all the American versions purchasable digitally and physically. The rest of the empire may scoff, but this was how many of us met them.

The Beatles Meet The Beatles! (1964)—5
UK CD equivalent: Please Please Me/With The Beatles/Past Masters