Who bossed The Beatles?
The battle to be first amongst equals
Paul: What I think… the main thing is this: You have always been boss. Now, I’ve been sort of secondary boss.”
John: Not always.”
Paul: No, listen. Listen. No, always.
From the secretly recorded conversation in The Beatles: Get Back (2021)
Officially, The Beatles were fiercely democratic. In practice, much of the time, too. Every song release had to be agreed by every member. John may have moaned loudly about about Paul’s ‘granny songs’ but ultimately he signed them off. Ditto for Paul and Revolution 9.
There were unwritten rules and protocols and they largely held to the end — in public, anyway. Until April 1970 they were a model of collective responsibility. And even Paul’s notorious ‘self-interview’ of that date was tentative and ambiguous.
It was John Lennon’s school band to begin with. Being bookish as well as unruly, he modelled it on the fictional William Brown and the Outlaws. John was William, of course, the undisputed leader of the gang.
Paul, a year younger, more measured and technically accomplished, was John’s deputy and often the de facto musical director. The other two roles were more problematic.
John had serious doubts about fourteen year-old George (‘that bloody kid’), while Paul played the part of George’s his elder brother. This dynamic would be resented in time.
A more pressing problem was finding the right drummer. The field of applicants was extremely limited (few owned the minimum equipment) and the final piece of the jigsaw would not fall into place until August 1962.
Meanwhile, they slogged their way around the gigging circuit with seemingly limited prospects. Puzzled promoters demanded a front man but were met with defiance. That wasn’t how they rolled. John was the leader but shared lead vocals with Paul, with George chipping in on occasion.
In their songwriting partnership Lennon and McCartney got equal billing following the precedent set in Tin Pan Alley and then the Brill Building.
Many times the band came close to disintegrating. What kept them going remarkable resilience, a shared conviction that they were bound for better things. But what possible route to fame lay open to them?
Only Buddy Holly provided anything like a workable role model. Holly at least wrote his own songs. Even more importantly, did not have leading man looks from Hollywood Central Casting. The man even wore glasses on TV. This was something Lennon resolutely refused to do when playing less glamorous venues like church halls and coffee clubs.
With core personnel and a musical attitude (wild, irreverent, English) a brand was slowly emerging. It needed a new name, though, as the Quarrymen link with Lennon’s old school was increasingly redundant.
The trend was for the star in lights, with a shout-out to the staff: Tommy Steele and the Steelemen, Johnny Kidd and the Pirates etc. Again the no front man problem. A brief flirtation with Johnny and the Moondogs blew up on the runway. Other lame options were similarly discarded.
Finally, in March 1960 John and Stuart Suctliffe evoked the spirit of Buddy Holly — with a homage to his Crickets. Tellingly, when the others were offered a choice of two spellings Beatals (Stu) and Beatles (John) they unanimously went with their leader.
Enter Brian in November 1960. A year more of low level progress and then unparalleled success. This swept away all in its path and after the ‘retirement’ from touring even Brian is only nominally on the bridge. They are now too big for him, to big for anyone.
Nonetheless the impact of his death in August 1967 is seismic, as Lennon immediately grasps (“I had no illusions. I knew we were fucked”). Characteristically, McCartney’s reaction is pragmatic. He steps up to take charge, focussing on next moves, with the practical arrangements.
The others — particularly George — resent this. Paul sees himself boy with his thumb in the dyke. They just experience bossiness. It doesn’t help that the first major post-Brian project is the ill-fated. Magical Mystery Tour. They are wary of Paul’s plans, tired of the whole Beatles circus.
They want their old surrogate dad back.
Fast forward two years to the Twickenham rehearsals. The general take on these — expressed vividly in Lennon Remembers — is that these were a miserable experience made worse by Paul’s high-handed approach.
The Get Back documentary straightens the record in McCartney’s favour. Take George Harrison’s notorious ‘see you around the clubs’ flounce-out is so low key. We can see what causes it — Paul talks over George in his attempt to communicate more directly with John. Mildly rude, and doubtless infuriating, but relatively genteel. Certainly when compared with the physical fights that regularly broke out in The Who and The Kinks.
Paul may annoy the others but he (generally) doesn’t try to override them. When he does overstep the mark he is pulled up sharply: Just tell me what you want me to play, Paul, says George pointedly.
The absence of Brian is felt deeply. Movingly, they always refer to him as Mr Epstein, partly for the cameras, perhaps, but also as an expression of their genuine affection and reverence. In an earlier interview John Lennon had confessed that being a Beatle without him was like “going somewhere without your trousers on.”
Paul tries to ensure that spare pants are provided. This is a practical necessity but the other kids sulk. Here’s John kvetching on the first day of rehearsals at Twickenham:
And so he has these ideas that we’ll rehearse and then make the album …we’ve been playing for twenty years, for fuck’s sake, we’re grown men, we’re not going to sit around rehearsing. I’m not, anyway.
Bossy he may be, but at times the others literally look to McCartney for musical direction. This is apparent in the astonishing sequence in which Paul plays Get Back for the first time. At first George and Ringo can barely conceal their boredom and resentment. They slouch on those weird municipal chairs: two schoolboys trapped in the headmaster’s office.
As Paul plays, the become more alert, tuning in to what he is is creating, intuitively absorbing the musical structure. By the end they adding their own harmonic embellishments. Get Back is mutating from a Paul vamp into a Beatles song.
It is also striking that the old musical telepathy between John and Paul is still there, even when their personal relations are tense. In the studio they rub along, with the same unwritten understanding there has always been. The Beatles are the collective some of their parts.
Their music is the boss.
