Beatles for Sale: A Re-evaluation

So I'm still working out how to put music and stuff on here, so for the time being, just Youtube it. Meaning, go to Youtube and enter "Beatles for Sale album."
I recently had the need for some good break-up songs of the “you done me wrong” variety. I set about creating a playlist for my I Pod. Scrolling through my vast library of songs, I found myself looking carefully over the songs on the album Beatles for Sale. I put several songs from that album into my playlist because they had just the right melancholy tone I needed. This led me to listen to the album start to finish. Beatles for Sale has always been pushed into the Beatle background and considered just a “filler”—a crazed record company demands a new album by Christmas and the Beatles desperately compile a lot of covers from their live show and some half-assed, hastily written originals. But I’ve always loved Beatles for Sale, and I think it represents a crucial step in the Beatles’ body of work.
Beatles for Sale came out toward the end of 1964 as the record company needed some new Beatle material to capitalize on the Christmas market. This puts it in between the album representing the height of Lennon-McCartney collaboration and Beatlemania, A Hard Day’s Night, and the album that represents the major turning point in maturation and Lennon-McCartney separation, Help. Coming between these two masterpieces, Beatles for Sale doesn’t get much attention. I will have to sometime put down my thoughts about Help and how Help represents the crucial transition from mop-top pop perfection to the mind-blowing artistic achievements of Rubber Soul and Revolver. But that is a story for later. If Help represents the big transition, then Beatles for Sale represents a mini-transition. John Lennon would get into full Dylan-mode on Help, but it is on Beatles for Sale that he first calls himself a loser. In 1964! Take that Beck!
Beatles for Sale is a nice little country album. The two Carl Perkins covers contribute to that vibe, but so do the insecure, melancholy originals, tales of love gone wrong that would make Nashville proud.
In the opening track, John takes the lead vocal and plays the spurned lover. He comes off a bit stalker-ish actually, as he keeps watch over his girlfriend because she won’t return his calls. Note the desperation and rawness in John’s voice and the Paul McCartney harmonized scream as they cry “I nearly died.”
The next song, I’m A Loser, represents the Great Leap Forward for John’s songwriting. He is actually writing from his own personal feelings, and what’s more, those feelings are full of vulnerability, insecurity, sexual dysfunction, and the acknowledgement of his own fakery. Paul gives one of his great traditional, walking bass lines that would not sound out of place on any country record of that time. Perhaps the most important statement in this song is “I am not what I appear to be.” The façade of Beatlemania was already fading for John. He could already admit, only two years into his career as a pop star, the illusion of it all. He acknowledges here that he has created an image for himself. He of course went on to play with that image for the rest of his life. We get all these messages in 2:30, complete with guitar solo and a nice harmonica break, in a nice countrified package.
“Baby’s in Black” is quite a strange song about trying to go out with a recently widowed woman. John and Paul sing lead together in harmony. Again this song has a twinge of country with John and Paul plaintively pleading “Oh what can I do?” Who else in 1964, or even since, has sung a pop sung about trying to make it with the recently bereaved?
“I’ll Follow the Sun” is my favorite song on this album. Paul played it live on his last tour, and hearing it live really meant a lot to me. It’s a lovely little song with a beautiful melody and an uplifting, positive promise (I’ll follow the sun) that looks ahead to some of Paul’s best ballads like “Blackbird.” I love how John’s slightly darker harmonies join in on the sad lyrical bits, but then Paul sings alone the lines sunny, freedom-affirming lines. The length of this song absolutely gobsmacks me—it’s 1:30. A complete song in 1:30! And yet it still leaves you wanting more. I always press repeat at the end of the song to hear it again.
“Eight Days a Week” is the big single, and it feels a little bit out of place on the album—just a little too ecstatically happy and smile inducing. These early Beatles singles are just impossible to analyze—everything about them somehow works together to immediately create a sing-along, head-bopping moment of pop euphoria.
Let’s admit it. “Every Little Thing” is clearly a throw-away song and by Lennon-McCartney standards, very underwhelming. But it does have a timpani. How many pop songs have timpani? But John actually sings “I know love will never die.” Obviously the boys were tired. I’ll cut them some slack on this one.
“I Don’t Want to Spoil the Party,” on the other hand, is a passable song with a nice beat and a message in keeping with “I’m a Loser.”
“What You’re Doing” is actually quite a cool song, and apparently good enough for its guitar part to merit inclusion in one of the mash-ups on the Beatles Love album. I love the opening drum bit and I dig the sarcasm from, of all people, Paul, as he asks “why should it be so much to ask of you what you’re doing to me.” Paul takes a quite angry and assertive tone, and I for one always love when Paul gets mad.
The covers here represent staples of the Beatles’ live shows going all the way back to the Liverpool Cavern. John gives his best scream in “Rock and Roll Music,” but “Mr. Moonlight” is an unqualified disaster. John’s opening vocal on it always startles me, and not in a good way. The medley of “Kansas City” and “Hey, Hey, Hey” are passable, even if Paul’s country accent is not. “Words of Love” has some nifty little guitar licks and some lovely harmonies. I especially like how they over-pronounce the end words of lines in a really romantic way. I’ve never been able to understand George’s vocals on “Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby.” It’s alright, but maybe a faster tempo would have helped it.
The best cover is Carl Perkin’s “Honey Don’t,” sung by Ringo. You can feel that the Beatles are having fun on this one. Ringo’s vocal is charming, and don’t you just love his shout-outs to George on his guitar solos? I remember the morning George died going to school and this song coming on the radio precisely because of those shout-outs. The guitar solos are uncomplicated but appropriately backwoods. Ringo performed this song at the Concert for George tribute.
So there you have it. A nice little overlooked treasure for your listening pleasure.