In Our Lives
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Mean Mr. Mustard
Three different members of my family came home with a copy of Abbey Road the day it came out in 1969. We had quad speakers, so listening to it for the first time was mind-blowing even for the young members of the family whose marijuana intake was only secondhand. "Mean Mr. Mustard" and "Polythene Pam" remain favorites. Since they are short songs with cartoon character subjects, they made an indelible mark on my young psyche.
Laurie Pike
Style Editor -
Julia
I am a lucky girl. I am lucky to have older siblings who were Beatles fans. The Beatles were a series of "firsts" for me. One of my very first musical memories was a Beatles song. I was in my brother's '68 Camaro, and we were listening to "When I'm 64." That was 1968. The first album I was given as a present was from my older sister, and it was Abbey Road. That was 1973. And when asked what my favorite Beatles song is, one need not look further than my name. Who couldn't feel lucky hearing John Lennon sing a song of love to you? The White Album is my favorite, and "Julia" is a beautiful song. A lucky girl indeed.
Julia St. Pierre
Production Director -
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I Am the Walrus
Because my older sister was a Beatles fan, I'd grown up listening to their music. I always liked it, but it was almost a background soundtrack to me—something that I took for granted. Not until high school did I actually listen to the band. I was at a small party at which a friend played Magical Mystery Tour. It was all pretty great, but when I heard "I Am the Walrus," I was blown away—the utter originality, the weirdness, the intensity. There's a cacophonous chorus at the end that sounds a lot like they're saying, well, never mind, but let's just say that it appealed to a bunch of bored teenagers. I guess, like a lot of kids, I figured that everything that had come before me was old-fashioned. It was at that point that I realized how wrong I was and how far ahead of their time the Beatles were. I bought the White Album and Abbey Road the next week.
Matt Segal
Executive Editor -
The End
I stumbled upon the weekly Beatles radio show on KLOS right around the same time I moved to L.A. a decade ago. I've always listened to the Beatles—heck, the Red and Blue Apple collections were some of the first CDs I ever purchased. But driving around exploring L.A. on Sunday mornings, I would listen to two hours straight of the Beatles: the good, the bad, and the Let It Be. In essence, my love affair with the Beatles and my love affair with this city happened at the same time.
Lesley Bargar Suter
Dine Editor -
I Will
The Beatles' "In My Life" helped me say good-bye to sleep-away camp friends summer after summer in my childhood. "Hey Jude," performed live at a Paul McCartney concert when I was in high school, moved me to tears. And "Within You Without You" will always remind me of my college boyfriend. But "I Will" is my very favorite Beatles song. It's simple and sweet and rings true every time I hear it.
Shayna Rose Arnold
Online Content Manager -
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Blackbird
I remember when I was 8 and the Beatles were all the rage, and I would go to the neighbors' house, where the older girls would pore through fan magazines and moon over their favorite Beatles. I ended up being more a Hendrix-Clapton person, but I can't hear "Blackbird" without being extremely moved.
Ann Herold
Managing Editor -
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Here Comes the Sun
My favorite is "Here Comes the Sun." George Harrison says he wrote it in Eric Clapton's garden, where he was playing hooky from meetings with troublesome record company executives and "dopey accountants." It's upbeat, and when I hear it, I'm reminded of all the times I've gone missing like that myself.
Richard E. Meyer
Articles Editor -
While My Guitar Gently Weeps
Whenever I hear "Drive My Car," it makes me as exuberant as the day I got my license; on the contrary, I fall into a deep melancholy at the sigh that kicks off "Eleanor Rigby." But George Harrison's contributions to the Beatles stir me most, and none more so than "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." As pretentious as it sounds, the song has always moved me as surely as a Bach concerto. I didn't believe that guitars could gently weep, however, until I saw the staggering YouTube footage of ukulele maestro Jake Shimabukuro performing the song in Central Park.
Mary Melton
Editor -
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Ticket to Ride
"Ticket to Ride" is my favorite. The song's all about rejection, but there's this Herculean effort to make it sound like a surefire Beatles hit. Here we have Ringo channeling Hal Blaine in all his booming Spector-era glory, combining with the George's 12-string to approximate the sound of a windup toy about to burst its spring. The melody is as catchy and bright as anything in the group's early catalog; Lennon even commandeers the "yeah" of "She Loves You" to punctuate his vanished lover's critique about what a controlling and uptight downer he was to live with. He's so immersed in self-pity that he can't be bothered to mention even a single charming quality he'll miss about his girl, now that she's hopped the train and gone for good. As for McCartney's exuberant harmonies, they emerge as the melodic equivalent of a waiter asking if you'd care for dessert, unthinking about why you are suddenly dining alone, oblivious that your life has just been made a shambles during the main course. Such a contrast to "Yesterday," also on this album, gorgeous, too, but so straightforward, its string quartet wishing sweet dreams to a mournful McCartney and tucking him in under a big blanket of schmaltz for the night. In the closing seconds of "Ticket to Ride," the rhythm hurtles faster toward delirium, as Lennon and McCartney sing their falsetto howl of negation — "my baby don't care" — over and over.
Ed Leibowitz
Writer-at-Large
