A day in the life: What the lives of the Beatles tell us about their art

I should have known that teasing Oliver Kamm about reading a book was a dangerous thing to do.

In an earlier post I urged readers to enjoy Ian MacDonald's Revolution in the Head, a book about the music of the Beatles. Incautiously I added: "Even you Oliver Kamm".

One of my reasons for encouraging the purchase of the Beatles book was that MacDonald argues - I think convincingly - that the politics and culture of the era, the views of the participants and their personal experiences shaped their music. And that it can't be properly understood or appreciated without it.

I knew Oliver - who strongly disagrees with me about the importance of personal experience - would not have read this book because popular music is not his bag. Hence the tease.

It turns out - how could I think it wouldn't have done - that while Oliver has not read Revolution in the Head he is, nevertheless, familiar with MacDonald's argument. Why? Because he has read MacDonald's book on Dmitri Shostakovich. And he regards it as unconvincing.

Oliver finishes his posting with this:

We can't gain direct knowledge of an artist's intentions, and even if we could then it still wouldn't necessarily be a reliable guide to the art. Art is independent of politics; we can make sense of a work of art only in its own terms, and not by inferring from it the intentions of the composer, author or artist.

These points have force. Few bodies of work have been as carefully examined as the songs of the Beatles. And few artists have given as many interviews about their work. Yet in many cases their intentions when writing a song remain obscure and the songs are enjoyed and understood without explanation.

Nevertheless I think Oliver, while having a good point, is being too dogmatic.

We can (and must be able to) make sense of a work of art in its own terms. Yes. We can make sense of a work of art only in its own terms. No.

Learning the context in which a work was completed helps both understanding and appreciation.

Using the - admittedly in Oliver's eyes lowbrow but also accessible - example of the Beatles, it is clear that, for instance, realising that Tomorrow Never Knows is the first example of an LSD influenced Beatles song aids understanding. And knowing that Sexy Sadie is an attack on the Maharishi aids appreciation.

There are countless other examples in Revolution in the Head.

I simply can't completely agree with the suggestion that art and politics are completely independent or that a composer's intentions are entirely irrelevant.

Comments

[Candadai Tirumalai]

In the days when I was engaged in the professional study of literature, there was a sharp distinction between those who had little use for what they called the Intentional Fallacy, the attempt to infer the intention of the author in composing his work, and those who thought that an understanding of the historical, social, cultural, and biographical context of the work aided in interpreting its meaning. The strength of the first approach lay in its respect for purely artistic or literary qualities, and of the second for how context, even extra-literary context, can illuminate a work.
As for the Beatles I remember the time when a lot of young people were convinced that "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" meant LSD.

[tadchem]

If you have to read a bio to learn about the music, you just haven't been listening.

[Buy Naprosyn]

Thank you

[Richard]

Don't get too hung up. If you like the Beatles then "Revolution in the Head" is a wonderful aid to enjoyment and appreciation. I wish Ian McDonald had lived and had decided to write a similar book on Dylan. I also credit him with helping to bring Nick Drake to wider attention. His article on Drake in Mojo circa 2000, reprinted in "The People's Music" is terrific. McDonald is much missed by lovers of popular music (or should be).