This week marks 50 years since The Beatles released their first single, Love Me Do.
Since the group lasted 8 years, that presumably means we’re about to spend every year until 2020 celebrating all kinds of 50 year anniversaries involving the Fab Four, which should make the bank managers for the two surviving members, and EMI, very happy indeed.
I’m particularly looking forward to seeing how the 50 year celebration goes for John Lennon saying The Beatles were bigger than Jesus, sparking riots and widespread burning of Beatles albums in the USA in 1966…
But I digress. Everyone’s been talking about that first song this week, from segments on BBC1’s The One Show sending reporters back to Liverpool’s The Cavern, to newspaper articles suggesting that October 1962 was the month popular culture was born.
What most of them agree on, bearing in mind the popularity of hundreds of Beatles songs, is that Love Me Do was an inauspicious start for the group.
Love Me Do didn’t hit number one. It didn’t get anywhere near, peaking at number 17 in the charts. It’s probably the only single by the group that didn’t hit at least number 2 in the charts.
Indeed, if you watch the video of the group singing the song below, all four of them look pretty darn bored.
But Love Me Do means something different for me.
Along with the Beatles’ better regarded Yesterday, it was the song that, for me, bridged the gap between children’s songs and popular music. It sent me on a record-buying odyssey that lasted until I discovered Oasis and Britpop, and finally had something in common with my friends.
And it’s very simplicity was the reason I liked it so much.
I’d discovered Yesterday when we sang it in primary school. It was a refreshing change from the usual hymns, and I even asked a teacher to give me a copy of the lyrics. Fast forward a few months, and on a family holiday in the Lake District, my Dad bought me The Beatles’ Red Album, full of their most popular gems from 1962-66.
Back at the holiday cottage, my brother, 8 years old, and me, 10, put the tape in the machine, and the very first sound we heard through our hearing aids was John Lennon’s harmonica. My brother and I loved Love Me Do the second we heard it.
Was it a great song? Not really. Would I listen to it now? Not unless you forced me to, frankly. But the reason we loved it was simple.
We could understand it.
This was a time before you could search for song lyrics online. Heck, this was a time before music programmes on TV even had subtitles.
My brother and I could hardly ever work out what Michael Jackson was really saying, or Madonna, or whoever else happened to be riding high in the charts at the time. We couldn’t even get the lyrics of New Kids on the Block. We may not have been missing out, in that regard.
But we could understand this opening verse: Love, love me do. You know I love you. I’ll always be true. So pleeeeeassse. Love me do…
We duly wrote down all the lyrics. We told Dad that we understood them. We made him listen to it all the way back home to Oxfordshire.
He may have regretted his generosity in the end.
A few months later, after a lot of repeated listening (which is how I’ve always come to understand a song), I discovered the other fantastic songs on that album. Later, I got the Blue album, covering 1967-70, which was even better.
Nowadays, I don’t listen to The Beatles that much. All that record-buying and autobiography-reading wore it all out.
But I still have good memories of the first time we heard Love Me Do.
Us Swinbournes (though not my Dad) salute you, mediocre Beatle debut song. You meant something to us.
*raises glass*
Charlie Swinbourne is the editor of Limping Chicken, as well as being a journalist and award-winning scriptwriter. He writes for the Guardian and BBC Online, and as a scriptwriter, penned My Song, Coming Out and Four Deaf Yorkshiremen.
The Limping Chicken is supported by Deaf media company Remark!, provider of sign language services Deaf Umbrella, the Deaf training and consultancy Deafworks, the RAD Deaf Law Centre, and BID’s upcoming 5th anniversary performance by Ramesh Meyyappan on 12th October – don’t miss it!
Andy
October 4, 2012
Youre right, Love Me Do wasn’t the number that made The Beatles famous. I was at the time incarcerated in the Mary Hare prison camp along with your dad and I well remember the Beatles causing an absolute sensation with She Loves You (Yeah,yeah,yeah). The newspapers made a big thing of the Yeah Yeah Yeah bit and before you knew it half the population was going around with Beatle haircuts. Except for us of course who were still being shorn like sheep every three weeks of term time. Their second hit I think was I Wanna Hold Your Hand which in Mary Hare speak rapidly migrated south to another part of the male anatomy. This one really made the Beatles famous, as I remember, that’s when all the screaming started. Old Askew hated the Beatles, he thought they represented pure anarchy. Funny that.
Liz
October 4, 2012
I have to say I actually like Love Me Do and listen to it occasionally, compared to a lot of things, the sound is very clear and peppy! It just puts a smile on your face. My Mum is a huge Beatles fan whilst my Dad loves the Rolling Stones so I get the best of both! I infinitely prefer the Stones though in most respects, She’s a Rainbow, Wild Horses and (Can’t Get No) Satisfaction are brilliant. I guess, being deaf, it’s sometimes easier to like songs that have a very distinctive bass line or rhythm, at least that’s how it is for me! 🙂
stepheniliffe
October 4, 2012
Suggestion for a possible future Limping Chicken feature: What was the first single/album you bought, and why? In 1972, at the age of 11, the only deaf person in a mainstream hearing school, I had to find ways of fitting in with my peer group. Sport, which I was good at, was the first way in. And then came pop music. So, if you liked Gary Glitter, The Slade, The Sweet, T.Rex, Alice Cooper, then you were ‘in’. And, if you didn’t you were ‘out’ and fair game for mockery and name-calling. Being deaf, I was already a bit ‘out’ so I had to act fast and get there. My first ever single, the round piece of black plastic with a hole in the middle that gained me entrance to ‘in’ crowd was – ‘Blockbuster’ by The Sweet. An uncanny choice, because this three minute glam rock anthem starts dramatically with the whining drone of a police siren before lurching into the whalloping beat, verse, chorus that would propel the band to number one in the charts. With hindsight, looking back what seems remarkable about that opening whine and drone is how it mirrored the tinnitus that rolled around inside my ears and head. The very best music is like this: whether ‘Love Me Do’ or Beethoven’s Fifth or the latest Hip Hop, it connects deep inside, a soundtrack to one’s life and emotions.
iheartsubtitles
October 24, 2012
Great article, except for the comment about New Kids On The Block…. 😉