Life’s Scene Change Music
Recently, I directed a gangbusters production of One Man, Two Guvnors, thanks to the extraordinary talents of a dream cast. We filled the scene changes with British Invasion rock and roll hits to match the show’s 1963 setting. Because of the multiple mentions in the script, we predominantly used Beatles songs, and the audiences loved them as much as we did.
To choose the tunes, I listened to the Beatles Channel on Sirius Radio. This channel has a regular feature called “My Fab Four” where everyday people select four specific Beatles songs and explain their choices. What the songs mean to them. Stories when the songs helped them. What happens to their heartbeat when they hear elevator versions of their favorite Lennon/McCartney/Harrison/Starr songs.
I decided to join the ranks of Fab Four selectors and craft my own narratives. None of these songs appeared in our show playlist because they did not connect with the scene or the moment’s action; however, they connect to some special personal memories. So, let’s call them the “scene change music of my life.”
“Baby, You Can Drive My Car” (Lennon/McCartney—but mostly McCartney)
Summer nights back in the ‘60s, we neighborhood kids would dress up in assorted costumes, drop a record on the stereo, and put on a show for our parents during their weekly cocktail party. Our shows, basically, were us dancing and lip synching to popular music as our parents sat in lawn chairs, glasses in hand, passing hors d’oeuvres. I remember dancing enthusiastically to Paul singing “Baby, You Can Drive My Car,” steering my imaginary Mustang convertible and pretending to honk the horn, totally unaware of the euphemistic meaning of the title. We kids thought our superlative talent inspired our parents to double over, desperately trying to smother their laughter without spilling their drinks. Later in life, Mom told me they giggled as they considered whether to stop the music or pour another cocktail and steer along with us. I am ever grateful they opted for the latter. This song always stirs up one of my favorite childhood memories and makes me crave a summer G&T.
“Got to Get You into My Life” (Lennon/McCartney), covered by Earth, Wind & Fire in the 1978 movie St. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
In 1977, the height of the disco era, our family moved from Connecticut to Cincinnati, Ohio. Our youngest sibling, Richard, played on a little league baseball team, and to fill some time that next summer, I volunteered to write newspaper articles about their season. The families embraced that idea, and with it, me, making me feel part of something special. One night, the team went to see the movie St. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and Earth, Wind & Fire’s funkified “Got to Get You into My Life” had me swinging in my seat till I had to jump up to get down, as I do to this day when it plays. The arrangement honors Paul’s original vocals, but the horns, driving bassline, and Maurice’s powerful lead vocal COOK in the EWF version, so much so that even Sir Paul has been noted as saying it is his favorite cover. To this day, my Pavlovian response to baseball games is to request this song.
“Here Comes the Sun” (Harrison) featuring George Harrison on lead vocal
My college women’s acapella group drove from Vermont to Florida to sing at Disney World during February break. We crammed our luggage, a “Disney or Bust” banner we painted, and ourselves into a run-down van the college supplied us. Stopping in PA to (gratefully) pick up a station wagon from our leader Majie’s family, we spread out between the two cars. After picking up my roommate Joanellen from her internship in D.C., those not driving settled in to sleep. I was on the van’s night-driving shift, and at sunrise somewhere, the radio station played “Here Comes the Sun.” My co-pilot Dorrie, who, sadly, is no longer with us, and I started singing at the top of our lungs, waking up everyone in the van. We held the banner up on the left side of the van, opened the right-side windows as we pulled up alongside the station wagon group, and every single one of us sang with joy. Now, whenever I hear “Here Comes the Sun,” no matter what time of day, I reach out to those women and know we are all singing with abandon—including our Dorrie.
“Good Night” (Lennon) covered in 1992 by Manhattan Transfer, their only ever Beatles cover
Alongside some super talented vocalists/performers, I had been hired to sing in a touring Christmas revue. Our director/producer had written the program, filling it with seasonal favorites and comic bits, but it needed one more song, a closer. It had to be a sweet and soothing button, something to wrap everyone in a musical hug. I suggested the Manhattan Transfer’s version of “Good Night,” which closes their Christmas album, much like the Beatles chose it to wrap the White Album. The music director and a few of us sat with the recording and pulled the lush vocal parts for an acapella version, and when we finally had it, we quietly said, “Yeah.” I imagine John said the same thing when Ringo’s voice completed their mix.
What songs highlight moments in your life?