Now and Then, the magic returns

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 29/11/2023 (999 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

On the Liverpool waterfront, there’s an impressive equestrian statue of King Edward VII outside the Mersey Ferry Terminal.

The eldest son of Queen Victoria, Edward VII was crowned in 1901, and hailed by English novelist J.B. Priestley as “the most popular king England had known” for nearly two and a half centuries.

Yet on the day my husband and I were there last September, hardly anyone stopped to admire the monument. Instead, tourists from all over the world flocked to the statues nearby, queuing for a chance to get a photo with the bronze likenesses of John, Paul, George and Ringo.

People love the Beatles for many reasons — their incredible talent, their lyricism and musical innovation, their sharp wit, humble roots, camaraderie, their intrinsic decency.

But more than anything, the saga of the Beatles is a love story.

It’s the story of four young men who came together and explored their artistic talents, saw the world, fell in love, brought out the best (and occasionally the worst) in each other, raised families, basked in — and sometimes fled from — the adoration of their fans.

Even though some of us were still kids when the Beatles disbanded, their music stirred deep thoughts and feelings in us and became ingrained in our lives.

So, I waited for the Nov. 2^nd release of Now and Then with nervous trepidation.

Hearing John’s plaintive voice was like the return of a long-lost, dearly missed friend:

“I know it’s true

It’s all because of you

And if I make it through

It’s all because…”

And then Paul’s voice joins his, their harmonies melding flawlessly like lifelong dance partners coming together after years of separation.

I surprised myself by bursting into tears, and they flowed harder upon hearing each Beatle’s signature contribution to the song — George’s rhythm guitar, Paul’s bass, Ringo’s drums and vocals in the chorus.

It’s why I disagree with the Nov. 10^th assessment in the Free Press by The Washington Post’s Geoff Edgers, that “Now and Then is just OK. And that’s not nearly good enough.”

Edgers makes some well-informed observations, including that “because it is the Beatles, the bar is high, and expectations are higher.”

And he duly credits Yoko Ono — for years unfairly blamed for the Beatles breakup — with having brought the band back together by turning over John’s demo recording of Now and Then to the other three, the catalyst for this new recording.

But I disagree that the song isn’t nearly good enough.

It doesn’t measure up to the poignant poetry of Eleanor Rigby, or the awesome genius of A Day in the Life — but how could it? John and George weren’t here to painstakingly fine-tune their parts.

What makes Now and Then so special is that it’s a song that has catapulted through time — John’s 1970s voice and George’s 1995 rhythm guitar reaching out to us across the universe, joining Paul and Ringo again thanks to artificial intelligence.

It is part fragile relic, part high-tech treasure, deeply evocative, and greater than the sum of its parts for what it represents — the closest thing to a new Beatles song we will likely ever hear.

As George Harrison noted in a 1995 clip from The Last Beatles Song, the short film exploring the making of Now and Then, “To hear John’s voice, that’s a thing that we should cherish. I’m sure he would’ve really enjoyed that opportunity to be with us again.”

Ringo Starr added, “It was the closest we’ll ever come to having him back in the room.”

So, I listen to the song always with an accompaniment of tears.

I cry for the senseless murder of John and the loss of George. For the happy zaniness of Help and Sgt. Pepper and the heart-racing madnessof Beatlemania. For the Beatles’ loves and losses — lost mothers, failed marriages and new romances, John’s estrangement with Julian, Paul’s desolation when the band broke up; for hard feelings and reconciliation, for the death of Linda McCartney.

I cry for the end of the Beatles and all that they gave us; for my own lost youth and Paul’s and Ringo’s advancing years. For the Beatles’ messages about peace and love and the wretched state of today’s world.

Paul has said, looking back at the band: “My God, how lucky was I to have those men in my life.”

Weren’t we all.

Now and Then is not some second-rate ballad patched together with Beatles remnants. It is a love song.

A love song to fans; a celebration of the Beatles by the Beatles.

But most of all, it is a love song from John to Paul, and from Paul to John; an ode to a deeply affectionate partnership that even death could not sever.

“With love, from me to you.”

Pam Frampton is a freelance writer and editor who lives in St. John’s. Email pamelajframpton@gmail.com X: pam_frampton