Things We Love Today: The Beatles’ B & C Songs

And we’re back with Things We Love Today, an ongoing series in which we review every Beatles song in alphabetical order.

And focus on absolutely one thing we love about it. Even if we don’t particularly care for the song. There’s always something great therein.

Of course, now that I think about it, by design this can’t be an ongoing series. Eventually we’ll run out of letters, and given the band’s defunct status for the past 56 years? We’re gonna hit that wall eventually.

So I could just edit that opening statement, or just clue you in to my inner dialogue. This is how we roll at the Park.

*AHEM* Anyway… let’s continue, shall we?

Baby It’s You — Burt Bacharach baby, first covered by The Shirelles. While my favorite version is still Smith’s from 1969, the Fabs nailed this one hard. A bunch of favorite moments to be had for sure, almost all of them related to John’s vocal performance. But I have a soft spot for the “cheat, cheat, cheat” background vocals in the second verse.

Baby You’re a Rich Man — OK so is the playful if completely politically-incorrect dig at Brian Epstein during the outro real? I hear it. I won’t elaborate any further other than to say Epstein, a gay Jewish man, would have gotten a kick out of it. Either way, I love this tune. And I’ll call out the playful interplay between Paul’s bass and John on the clavioline.

Baby’s in Black — three bangers in a row, folks. A treasure in 3/4 time, the harmonies on this track are absolutely exquisite. But what totally makes me melt are the harmonies on the bridge “Oh how long will it take / ’til she sees the mistakes she has made / Dear, what should I do…”

Back in the U.S.S.R. — well, make that four now. What’s up with Bs? Although I never was totally keen with Paul on drums, he acquits himself OK here. I still miss Ringo, but there’s too much to love here. I’ll call out George’s guitar solo. Simple but powerfully in service of the tune.

Bad Boy — and we’re at five. Five magically bangers in a row. John absolutely slays this Larry Williams cover. One of the hardest rockin’ tunes of their early period (1962-1964), John sounds like he’s having the time of his life recording this one. Amazing tune. I’ll specifically call out that this is the only song in which there is a line referring to someone about to crap themselves.

Because — six! Six!! I need a wet-nap. And I’m going to go with John, Paul, and George’s three-way vocal harmonies because (1) it’s one of the most impressively and exquisitely beautiful moments in the band’s entire catalog, and (2) when people talk about “Beatles harmonies” whilst describing other songs from other artists, this is what they’re referring to.

Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite! — ugh. Well, six in a row ain’t bad. I like this tune, but I don’t love it. It’s perfectly sequenced on the Sgt. Pepper album, but on its own it’s mostly skippable. Mostly. As an engineering and production effort, it’s a marvel. My favorite moment is by far George Martin on the Hammond organ during the outro. Or maybe it’s a Wurlitzer. Not sure. It’s very carnival evocative, but also a little bit of theme park attraction with spooky Haunted Mansion vibes.

Birthday — a silly song, but a sweet one. The band made it up in the studio on the spot, then went to Paul’s flat to watch The Girl Can’t Help It… and then returned to the studio to finish it. With Patty Boyd and Yoko Ono throwing in their background vocals. Me, I have a weird enjoyment of the random background screaming during the drum breakdown after the first verse.

Blackbird — an absolute masterpiece that is almost every guitarist’s first goal on the acoustic guitar. OK, maybe after Stairway. Regardless, the descending fingerpicking phrases during the chorus (“Blackbird, fly….”) are just an absolute delight

Blue Jay Way — oof. OK. Gimme a second… well, I can honestly say I really love the video. And there’s a haunting undercurrent throughout the entire track that remains unnerving from start to finish. The unknown cellist though is really doing all the heavy lifting here. They add a lively vocal counterpoint to the dronish monotony earmarking the track.

Boys — Ringo is having a blast with this one. So is the rest of the band, judging by the energy on the recording. I don’t know if I love the “all right, George” shout out or the “bop shoo-wop” backing vocals, so let me pick a number here. OK, four… yup, we’re going with the “bop shoo-wops”.

Can’t Buy Me Love — hey, we’ve reached C-level! Monumental! So for “Can’t Buy Me Love”, I almost wanted to go with one of the demo tracks they recorded with the back-and-forth vocals during the verses. But since that never made it to the final, release? Alas. George’s tasteful, toe-tapping Country Gentleman solo it is then. And why not? He really shone here.

Carry That Weight — yeah. All four Beatles carrying the vocal melody together. All. Four. Beatles. And that’s all she wrote.

Chains — a sort of middling early cover tune from the band. Not much good, not much bad, just… a song. I’ll admit to having a softness for John’s opener on the ol’ harmonicky, though.

Christmas Time (Is Here Again) — I debated including this, since it was only released as a single to British fan club members in 1967. And it’s silly, repetitive, pointless, and maybe that’s the all the charm. Not much else too it though. I think I have a soft spot, though, for Ringo instructing us on how to spell the word “out”.

Come Together — you know, I’m constantly surprised by how many people don’t like this song. Mind boggling. In my head, this song needs no praise from anyone. It’s just a perfect tune. What don’t I like about it? My first instinct was go to with Paul’s iconic bassline, and that would be more than enough. But not today. I’m going with Ringo’s masterful little drumfill that slots right in after the bassline during the intro and between the chorus and verses. The way that pans across the soundstage is a musical sweet spot.

Cry Baby Cry — I love how the songs opens, smack into the opening lyrics. John’s double-tracked vocals on the chorus are a joy. His fantastical, non-sensical lyrics are a surreal delight. Even Paul’s straight-outta-somewhere “Can You Take Me Back” outro works beautifully. But no, I love the brash simplicity of John’s piano work here. Evocative of him sitting at the bench and crafting rich, illustrative musical paintings of nothing at all and everything you want in a paradoxical delight.

Up next: we’re getting plenty of D!