BRILL BUILDING #2 by Ian Brill
The Beatles' "Cry Baby Cry"
I remember once hearing one of my favorite albums, Husker Du's "Zen Arcade," be described as a record that creates a feeling of the time when you're just waking up, between dream and reality. I fully grasped this meaning on a Sunday morning when I put the radio on at about 7:00 and went right back into bed. A few minutes later, I heard heaven.
I put it (the radio) on because a show that has been with me for as long I can remember is on at that time, "Breakfast With the Beatles.” Some of you reading this might say "Oh yeah, my radio station has a Breakfast with the Beatles." That's all fine and good, but LA was the first to have an all Beatles show. Back when 97.1 KLSX was a classic rock station, Deidre O'Donahugh hosted a morning show on Sunday dedicated solely to the Fab Four. It didn't just play the Beatles tunes you already knew (although that was and still is the bulk of the programming) the show had rarities, interviews, solo tracks, news and fan participation all about the Beatles. For my Scotland born father, this was a nostalgic trip back to his boyhood while working in the United States; LA mayor Tom Bradley's office to be precise. Since he was enjoying "Breakfast," I was enjoying "Breakfast" and I like to think I am better off because I was exposed to such great music so early on. A few years ago Diedre O'Donoahugh died, and Chris Carter of Dramarama, the Chris Carter Mess Radio Show and manager of the Wondermints, took over.
It was during "Beatlewood," where Chris plays all the quiet songs because it's so early in the morning, that it hit me. The song is not much more than John Lennon strumming an acoustic guitar singing lyrics that could be from a Lewis Carrol piece, both later accompanied by some fine piano playing. Still, it was probably because of that starkness did it hit me. I wasn't quite awake but definitely not sleeping and I noticed the song, its beauty in being so sly and ethereal, that the world itself seemed to go to sleep, leaving just me and the song. It was all over in a few minutes, just verse, chorus, verse, etc., and then there is a whole new song right at the end that sound like it's coming from far away with Lennon singing "Can you take me back?" Even though the song and the experience is gone, it felt like there was an extended little goodbye there, just so the song can tell me it felt the way I did about our little encounter. I have since played the song many times more, it appears on "The White Album," but nothing can replace that little dance Lennon's little creation and I had so many mornings ago.
Purchase The Beatles' White Album from Amazon.com.