John Lennon's 'Revolution 9' [COMPLETE]

JOHN LENNON’S “REVOLUTION 9”

CARLTON J. WILKINSON

I. THE BASICS

OHN LENNON’S “REVOLUTION 9” is an anomaly in several obviousrespects: It is the longest of any track on any Beatles album; it has

no lyrics per se; it makes the most extensive use of tape loops and extra-musical sounds of any Beatles song; it’s not even a “song” in that it has no melody in the traditional sense. Hearing it as an anomaly, many Beatles listeners came quickly to disregard the work as a pointless collec-tion of random noises when it appeared at the tail end of The Beatles (henceforth the White Album).1 The Beatles here had overstepped the expectations of their fans. In the more conservative era that followed the break-up of the Beatles, the group’s most ambitious efforts came to be

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John Lennon's “Revolution 9” 191

seen as the work of drugged-out partyers, rich punks with “too much time and too many hallucinogens on their hands and the keys to the recording studio,” as my older brother put it.2 With regard to “Revolution 9,” that impression remains firmly in place, particularly among members of the generation who were the Beatles’s contemporaries, where it has the hallmarks of a religious conviction. Fans remain suspicious that “Revolution 9” might have been a meaning-less work of cynicism, deliberately making a mockery of their devotion. Or worse, Lennon might be putting on airs, taking himself too seriously and betraying his working class background through pretensions in a “high-brow” art form. These suspicions have some validity but do not detract from the significance and artistic success of “Revolution 9.”

On its own terms the work exhibits a very definite musical structure and a clarity of intent that allows more unbiased listeners to easily find meaning. Moreover, the work represents an intensely subjective expres-sive tendency that was to become the hallmark of Lennon’s solo work in both art and music. This paper will attempt to address these issues specifically. For other aspects of the discussion surrounding “Revolution 9,” I can highly recommend three sources: Walter Everett’s comprehen-sive analysis of the Beatles’s recording techniques and songwriting, The Beatles as Musicians, which includes a brief but insightful look at “Revo-lution 9,” Mark Lewisohn’s annotated Abbey Road studio logs, and Ian Hammond’s series of self-published online articles, offering what is probably the only detailed assessment of “Revolution 9” currently avail-able. My analysis was conducted independently, but I remain grateful to Hammond for his pioneering work on this piece, which has helped me to confirm and sharpen my own conclusions. Where consistent with my analysis, I have tried to use or correlate with Hammond’s terminology. With regard to the fundamental aspects of the structure and the importance of the composition, I believe he and I are in agreement.

“Revolution 9” was born in a Beatles's jam session on May 30, 1968, during the recording of the Lennon song that became “Revolution 1” (also included on the White Album). According to Lewisohn, the recording session lasted over ten minutes, of which only a little over four minutes remained in the final mix of “Revolution 1.” (Lewisohn, 153) The remaining six minutes became the basis for the sound collage later titled “Revolution 9.” In “Revolution 1,” Lennon airs a controversial political position, a message echoed and developed in the music of “Revolution 9.” The lyrics of “Revolution 1” appear to mock revolution and revolutionaries and imply a preference to work within the system, flawed as it is. The singer belittles through agreement—“we all want to change the world”—and implies that the movement is pursuing

192 Perspectives of New Music

“destruction” for its own sake. Perceived at the time as an insulting gesture toward the New Left, there's a quality of childlike taunting, teasing in both the message and the melodic structure as Lennon in the third verse dismisses the radical politicians: “carrying pictures of Chairman Mao” he chides, “ain’t gonna make it with anyone anyhow.” (Fagen) Significantly, he opposes changing “the Constitution,” saying “you better free your mind instead.” The writer holds no hope that a new plan to fix the ills of the world will represent change for the better and retreats instead to the world he can control: his own attitude, his own head. Moreover, he charmingly, but arrogantly, suggests we do the same.

Voicing the reaction of the New Left, contemporary critics saw no radicalism in Lennon’s stance, only cowardice and betrayal. In particular, in an exchange with the editors of London’s Marxist news-paper Black Dwarf in January 1969, Lennon defended the message of “Revolution 1” against criticism published a few months earlier:

I’ll tell you what’s wrong with the world: people—so do you want to destroy them? Ruthlessly? Until we change your/our heads—there’s no chance. Tell me of one successful revolution. Who fucked up communism, Christianity, capitalism, buddhism, etc.? Sick heads, and nothing else. (Ali, 359)

Even as Lennon distanced himself from the aims of the New Left’s pol-itical leadership, his words and the very act of participation in a debate with Black Dwarf demonstrated a powerful sympathy. In the years that followed, Lennon allied himself directly with various radical groups in England and the U.S., but it is doubtful he ever really overcame this anxiety. Overall, it seems clear that Lennon wanted desperately to participate in bringing about change to a world that was clearly “fucked up.” But he could not trust any leadership or movement to achieve the immediate political and social reform that was necessary.

It is important to note that Lennon’s break with the Maharishi occurred just prior to these recording sessions. In that relationship, he was let down by the perceived imperfections of a leader literally worshiped by his crowd of followers. This personal disappointment is closely related to the distrustful political sentiment of “Revolution 1” (and hence “Revolution 9”) and is addressed head on in another angry song on the same album, “Sexy Sadie” (“Sexy Sadie” being a playfully sarcastic substitution for the word “Maharishi”). (Spitz, 757)

In a much-discussed inconsistency in the recording of “Revolution 1,” Lennon’s ambivalence materializes in outright contradiction: “if you


talk about destruction/don’t you know that you can count me out (in).” Only “out” is listed in the printed lyrics, but the word “in” is also clearly audible. (Lennon later repeats this contradiction in a taped promo of the single “Revolution” that aired on the Smothers Brothers Show, October 13, 1968.) While this is revealing of Lennon’s deep sense of confusion, in the larger view it is basically irrelevant. From its laid-back blues feel to its signature, “Don’t you know its gonna be all right,” “Revolution 1” calls for a policy of disengagement—a personal, pacifist response. However he intended it, the word "in" is an inconsistent, superfluous detail. In an interview, Lennon addressed the “count me out/in” issue and, significantly, links it to his approach to "Revolution 9."

I put in both [“in” and “out”] because I wasn’t sure. There was a third version [the other two were the single, “Revolution,” and the original version from the White Album, “Revolution 1”] that was just abstract, musique concrète, kind of loops and that, people screaming. I thought I was painting in sound a picture of a revolu-tion—but I made a mistake, you know. The mistake was that it was anti-revolution. (Ali, 364 )

The “third version” is “Revolution 9.” In this 1971 interview (with Tariq Ali, one of the Black Dwarf editors who had engaged him in the publicly published debate in 1969), Lennon sounds self-conscious, as if he is trying awkwardly to fit “Revolution 9” into his growing political activism. But there is no need. The picture—painted as a collage of disparate sources—is that of a real revolution in all its violence and chaos. Lennon’s opposition is easy to guess with even casual listening, while a closer reading reveals it imbedded in the detail.

THE CROWD

Much of what there is to understand about “Revolution 9” is already there in the title: A revolution implies upheaval, violence, masses moving against an established system—we expect promise and hope for renewal, destruction and death, and, most importantly, confusion and violence, as laws and predictable patterns of behavior are temporarily set aside and new ones are not yet in place. The “9” derives from a key element of the composition, the loop of a voice calling “number nine.” As part of the title, it implies a cynicism about revolution in general: This Revolution is just one in a revolving door of revolutions, each


replacing the other, again turning tender utopian dreams into bruised and imperfect reality. This echoes the mocking tone of the “Revolution 1” lyrics.3

But “Revolution 9” could also be a generic title for any piece of musique concrète—a loose pun on revolving tapes and LPs. The Beatles in fact used this same pun before in the title of the album “Revolver.” Labeling this track as the ninth when no true series exists would then be seen as deliberately absurd—a thumb-the-nose-at-tradition statement which has its own tradition in Western music (recall Erik Satie’s Trois morceaux en forme de poire, a work of seven sections) and its own precedent in Lennon’s creative work.5

The number nine also has deep personal significance for Lennon, particularly with regard to moments that transformed his life. His birthday was October 9, 1940, and significant career-altering encounters with the Beatles’ longtime manager Brian Epstein and with Yoko Ono both occurred on November 9—1961 and 1966, respectively. The number appears elsewhere in his songwriting, revealing a conscious fascination: “One After 909” (1963) and “Number 9 Dream” (1975).

In Understanding Media, Marshall McLuhan asserts that our concept of number is an extension of our physical sensation of touch; he relates the human understanding of numbers to experiences with crowds and wealth. He adds, however, that a developed use of numbers also plays a decisive role in “breaking tribal unity,” individualizing members of society, separating us from the crowd.4 Lennon was almost certainly aware of McLuhan’s ideas, however a discussion of McLuhan’s influence on Lennon’s music and politics is beyond the scope of this paper. Merely using the psychological relationship between number and crowd described by McLuhan as a springboard, we are led immediately to a richer reading of “Revolution 9”: The “number nine” voice is both a symbol of Lennon’s individuality and the threat of the crowd to subsume that individuality. Elements symbolizing personal experience, most notably Yoko Ono’s voice between time points 6:53 and 7:52, are placed in opposition to crowd noise and sounds related to mass exper-ience. This polarity is present in the potential of any revolution—healthy social reform versus violent upheaval and the suffering of individuals.

STYLISTIC TRANSFORMATION

On the heels of the Maharishi letdown, Lennon began a love affair with conceptual artist Yoko Ono only weeks before these recording sessions. In their relationship, which from the beginning involved artistic


collaboration, and in the media frenzy it caused, Lennon began to explore more deeply the power of his individuality independent of the Beatles. From his earliest songs, Lennon drew frequently from personal experience in his songwriting, but subjectivity was typically masked by metaphors and third-party narratives in the lyrics and strict pop-song formulas. The song “Nowhere Man” is a case in point: while it sup-posedly describes Lennon’s dark frustration over a fleeting bout of writer’s block, the story unfolds in the third-person—the sly “isn’t he a bit like you and me?,” stated almost as an afterthought, makes the speaker appear sympathetic, but unrelated, to the subject. The music barely wavers from the opening melodic sequence, a working out of a mechanical clockwork formula—the message is couched in cool detach-ment. In his post-Beatles work on the other hand, encouraged by Ono, Lennon sheds artifice and places himself squarely into the artistic frame, creating an explicitly subjective, documentary style that allows him to explore aspects of society and the human condition through the lens of his own direct personal experience. In this, he blends his role as a quasi-mythical pop icon with his personal history and very personal path toward self-discovery and self-definition, while at the same time often presenting his artwork (containing bits of himself) as a social activism.

Ono had at this point already achieved recognition for her own work and as a member of the Fluxus movement. Her “Cut Piece” perform-ance of 1964, in which audience members were invited to snip away patches of her clothing, is still widely viewed as a groundbreaking event for the conceptual art movement. Its most revolutionary characteristic was its placement of the artist herself at the center of her work, physically and emotionally vulnerable to the dangers and social unorthodoxies implied in the group act of removing and destroying her clothing. (Munroe) As she enters Lennon’s life, we immediately see this tendency emerging in his work, a decisive stylistic transformation. In works from 1968 and 1969 like “Julia,” “The Ballad of John and Yoko,” “Cold Turkey” and Two Virgins (with John and Yoko nude on the cover), the once-detached songwriter can be seen taking large, deliberate steps toward a confessional style that overtly blends the personal and the political, putting all of himself in the frame; a social icon and a real man with real ideas, he serves as both artist and artistic subject.

“Revolution 9” is one of these steps: a portrait of the artist at war with himself, at war with his world, a world also at war with itself and at war with war. Projecting his own experience onto the screen of the political debate swirling around him, Lennon views the crowd—vividly conveyed by sounds related to mass experience—with both longing and


fear. The crowd is the catalyst, both nurturing womb and crushing burial, the alpha and the omega of human identity; recognition of personal intimacy and isolation within our own individual skins is an act of heroism, opening us to terrifying vulnerability. At the same time, probably more out of habit than intention, the songwriter chooses a form and style that allow him to preserve his attitude of detachment from the message. Soon, in his post-Beatles recordings, he will abandon such pretense, culminating in an intensely subjective style in his political activism of the 1970s, a period that included “Bagism” and other performance art collaborations with Yoko Ono. Though it loses much of its daring and drama, this continues to be an important stylistic element to varying degrees throughout his remaining career, inclusive of the songs on his 1980 Double Fantasy.

II. THE STRUCTURE OF “REVOLUTION 9”

“Revolution 9” is organized around significant articulations in the over-all texture, usually occurring at approximately 60-second intervals. Using the most pronounced of the textural articulations as a guide, we can divide the composition neatly into three large, well-rounded sec-tions: 0:00 to 5:00, 5:00 to 6:56 and 6:56 to the end, delineated by sharp differences in texture and differentiated by the choice and han-dling of raw material.

Section I (five minutes)Section II (two minutes)Section III (one and a half minutes)

The loudest and most energetic moments occur early in Section II. However, the dramatic climax of the composition comes almost at the end, midway through Section III. These large sections are divided into subsections forming a regular phrase structure, themselves anchored by the regular articulations in texture. This phrase structure is altered at the beginning of Section II, but reasserts itself by the end of that section. Section III is relatively brief and consists entirely of new material. However its phrase structure closely resembles the Section I model. After some general observations regarding the composition as a whole, I will briefly discuss each subsection with the aid of timelines (see Timelines, below).

McCartney’s short, untitled song fragment “can you take me back where I came from . . .” is a prelude, entirely separate from “Revolution


9” and largely irrelevant to any structural analysis of the piece. Support-ed by an ostinato of acoustic guitar and hand percussion—instruments absent in the subsequent composition—this track is further distinct from “Revolution 9” in that it has no tape loops or recording effects. As a transition, however, it serves to lead the listener from the dark and tune-ful “Cry Baby Cry” into the black nightmare of Lennon’s “Revolution 9.” It is a short incantation with a clear aspect of ritual and introspec-tion, preparing us for the journey, urging the faithful forward and warning off the faint of heart.

Before we know it, we are in that world. The McCartney prelude is crudely cut off as it is fading out, interrupted by a second introduction: a nine-second snippet of conversation—barely audible—obviously between George Martin and another man in the recording studio.6 This introduction is again cut off and a new segment begins, marked by soft piano music and the loop of a voice speaking “number nine” over and over, panned back and forth between the stereo speakers. Since each LP side of the White Album is entirely without breaks between songs, the decision on where to mark the zero point for “Revolution 9” is complex. Does it begin with the McCartney song fragment? Or the conversation that follows? Or the entrance of the “number nine” voice that follows that? I examined each possibility on its own merits and finally chose the beginning of the conversation—the splice that ends the McCartney prelude—as the zero point.7

Starting the clock at this point, the 60-second articulations noted earlier seem to occur in the vicinity of the round minute, 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, etc., with the division between the first two large sections occur-ring squarely at 5:00. The sound of George Martin’s voice, featured in the opening conversation, returns, albeit in an entirely different context, as an ostinato loop in Section III. Further, some of the mood and texture of the nine-second conversation are preserved throughout the bulk of the composition by a separate pair of speaking voices—often unintelligible—that helps to unify the texture and delineate the overall form.

The “number nine” loop that immediately follows is repeated periodically throughout the first five minutes of the composition. This

“Can You Take Me Back” — conversation — “Number 9” loop | | 0:00 0:09

EXAMPLE 1


voice could be asking for the ninth of anything, but it seems most familiar as a calling of some person waiting in line. Given the turmoil over the Vietnam War at the time (and the Beatles’s newly declared opposition to the war), it is compelling to view this as an allusion to a draft number. Further, given the personal nature of the number nine in the composer’s own mind, we are tempted to view the number as representative of Lennon himself: the speaker is calling for Lennon; his number is up. But such a specific interpretation denies a potentially broader significance. It suffices to know that there is a line, numbered and waiting; the voice pans back and forth between the speakers as if the caller is turning his head from side to side, searching among the crowd. By implication, we are in that line—numbered elements of a homo-geneous group. The numbering effectively strips us of our individual identities.

Interpretively and structurally, this voice is our guide for what is to come. It punctuates the music in Section I at key points, heralding sub-sections of contrasting texture. This Guide Voice fades out for the first time 31 seconds after its entrance, recurring again in shorter statements in the neighborhood of the two-minute mark, the three-minute mark (followed by a muffled reappearance at 3:37), the four-minute mark, again at 4:27, marking the transition into Section II, and one last time at 6:31.

A list of what I hear as the most significant structural time points is shown in Example 2. The “Guide Voice” column shows the start times for this element’s occurrences, illustrating how it is most often used to highlight important moments in the structure during the first half of the piece.

At each location in the “Time Point” column we hear a sharp change in texture—that is, significant foreground material is cut off, replaced by other material. Such juxtapositions occur roughly three or four times in each minute of the piece. In the “Sections” column, I mark chrono-logically what I hear as the most dramatic of these changes in texture, and I find that they seem to denote the beginning or the end of a musical process, falling typically at 30- or 60-second intervals.

Some of these articulations are more accurately described as splices: all previous sound is cut off without fading and replaced instantaneously with wholly different material. The effect is used judiciously. The most obvious occurrences are indicated in Example 3, falling at the beginning and end of the introductory conversation, at the beginning and the end of Section II (5:00 and 6:52), once within the four-second transition into the closing section and once more at its end (6:53 and 6:56) and again at 7:56, dividing the closing section into two contrasting parts.


Time Point Guide Voice Section Description Structure

0:00 Intro I-Intro Conversation Intro

0:09 I-A Bm Piano A

0:11 Guide Voice

0:30 Backward Piano

0:54 Choir/Orchestra

1:00 Oboe, Crowd, Paired Voices

1:10 Backward Piano, Bm Pno/Voices

1:30 6/8 Strings, Paired Voices

Clar. & Pizz. Bass, Rising Chord

1:57 1:57 I-B Baby, Paired Voices, Guide Voice, Ebm Choir B

2:11

2:26 Backward SA Choir, Massed Loops, Crowd

2:43 Backward SA Choir, Lennon Singing

3:00 3:00 I-C Traffic Backward SA Choir, Guide Voice, Paired Voices, Crowd C

3:30 Children Playing, Rewinding Tape

3:37

3:45 Crowd, Plane Buzz, Bugle Buzz

Bm Pno/Voices, Struggling Voice

3:57

4:00 I-D Backward Piano, Bm Pno/Voices A'

4:14 Crowd Noise, Lennon: “Alright”

4:27 4:27 Massed Loop Crescendo (trans)

5:00 II-A Riot Fire Hoses, Crowd and Bass C'

5:39 II-B Flames Flames, Backward SA Choir, Paired Voices

5:53 II-C Guns C Major Orch., Struggling Voice

Sci-Fi Guns, Wild West Guns

6:17 Backward SA Choir, Bm Pno/Voices A''

6:25 Massed Loops (overlaid) C''

6:31

6:39 II-D Children Bm Piano/Voices, Children Playing A'''

6:52 Military Band (trans)

6:53 “Take this, Brother . . .”

6:56 III-A Piano, Radio, Yoko’s Voice D

7:56 III-B Crowd Cheering (“Block that Kick”) C'''

8:21 end

EXAMPLE 2


This splicing carries an implicit violence, both in the abrupt forced change without transition and in an implicit instability, a lack of control or ability to predict what will happen next. Lennon appears completely aware of these dramatic implications. The initial use at 0:09 underscores the flip hostility and instability of the preceding conversation, setting the tone for what follows. The splice at 5:00 throws us successfully into a new level of sustained tension. The end of the five-second transition into Section III (“take this, brother . . .”) is accompanied by the real-world sound of a mechanical switch being thrown—a sly reinforcement of the launching of a new idea.

CYCLICAL FORM

In his analysis, Hammond finds a cyclical form akin to ritornello, with the one-minute segments (“strips” in Hammond’s terminology) noted earlier serving as Lennon’s basic compositional unit. In my analysis I have shown these segments as clear periods, typically dividing into two contrasting phrase groups at or near the 30-second mark. The antecedent phrase is always marked by an appearance of material that amounts to the main theme of “Revolution 9,” what Hammond terms the “home” statement. Occurrences of “home” feature a small, select group of elements, given here with the timing of each element’s first clear statement: Bm Piano, 0:09; Guide Voice, 0:11; Paired Voices, 1:00; Backward Piano, 1:06; Clar & Pizz Bass, 1:18; and Backward SA Choir, 2:26.8 These elements possess significant relationships in the pitch domain, to be discussed in more detail later (see Pitch, below). Appearances by other elements may overlap these, but in general “home” elements are clearly stated and readily identifiable as anchors for the phrase structure. “home” statements usually occur in the antecedent phrase group. This material is avoided or downplayed in the consequent phrase group, replaced by more volatile-sounding sources. Tension-filled elements and a theme of crowd sounds present in most of “Revolution 9” are typically emphasized in these consequent sections.

0:00–09 5:00 6:52–56 7:56| | --| | - |--| | | Section I | Section II | Section III

EXAMPLE 3


Hammond refers to appearances of this opposing thematic material as “episodes”, and indeed these phrases exhibit specific tendencies reflective of the term. These terms of “home” and “episode” are particularly useful as thematic identifiers, allowing us to track significant content within the regular phrase structure.

Of the “home” elements, the Guide Voice, the Bm Piano and the Paired Voices are of primary importance; the other three are secondary, gaining their significance through association with these. The Paired Voices element in the “home” material consists of a single continuous (nonlooping) recording of Lennon and George Harrison speaking nonsense, appearing and disappearing in the mix but lasting from 1:00 to 6:52. Usually this element appears with the Bm Piano, forming a strong sense of return as a compound element and referred to in Example 2 as the Bm Pno/Voices. This special treatment is reserved for these two elements; while others may be grouped together on a local level, the larger tendency is for them to emerge and recede as independent agents.

The relatively strict phrase structure of “Revolution 9” is delineated in part by the regularity of the “home” statements. In the first three minutes of the piece, each “home” statement occurs roughly ten seconds after the round-minute articulation; in the first two minutes, the “home” area lasts for approximately twenty seconds, while the third (beginning at 2:10) lasts about fifteen seconds. All subsequent “home” statements, until 6:17, are only about ten seconds each, and less satis-fying as points of rest. A crossfade at 6:17 brings back the Bm Pno/Voices coupled with the Backward SA Choir. Another “episode” at 6:22 overlays the continuing “home” elements, which re-emerge at 6:39 and remain present and stable until the end of Section II at 6:52. “home” statements are completely absent from Section III.

I’ve described the organization of “home” and “episode” statements in a simple chart (Example 4), using Xs to mark the “home” statements and Os to mark the “episodes.” Those sections left unmarked are best identified as neither “home” nor “episode,” but as introductory, trans-itional or Coda material.

The material beginning at 4:27 (marked in Example 4 as an O in parentheses) functions as a continuation of the previous “episode” and as a transition into the next section. The segments from 5:00 to 5:39 and at 6:17 to 6:22 offer only hints of “home” statements and less clear division between “home” and “episode” (again indicated by parentheses above). The minute-long subsections in Section III function as contrasting statements in the way of the antecedent and consequent phrase structure apparent in the opening minutes, but III-A does not


contain the necessary sound sources to establish a sense of “home;” on the other hand, the Cheering Crowd solo of III-B is strongly reminiscent of previous “episodes.”

At the end of each period, we typically find a short area that functions as a cadence, sometimes incorporating or followed by a transition into the next section. As will be seen below, cadences are usually formed by a sudden increase in the energy level, often involving the introduction of several sounds at once or a burst of new interplay between existing sounds typically involving a pronounced use of faders.

ASSOCIATIONS AND FORESHADOWING

Throughout Sections I and II, there is a marked tendency to fore-shadow the significant statement of a sound source—or combination—using a shorter statement by the same source. Here are a few examples drawn from the first three minutes:

1:00—the Paired Voices enter in the foreground and drop to almost complete inaudibility into the background at 1:03, returning as a principal foreground element from 1:10 to 1:30.

1:49—the opening of the Eb Minor Choir loop is heard in a one-second appearance with a full-fledged foreground statement at 2:00.

Section I A B C D 0:00 0:09 0:25 1:10 1:30 2:10 2:22 3:00 3:11 4:00 4:11 4:27

— X O X O X O X O X O (O)

Section II A - B - C - D 5:00 5:39 5:49 6:17 6:22 6:39 6:52 6:53

(X/O) X O (X O) X — —

Section III A B 6:56 7:56 8:21 — (O) End

EXAMPLE 4


1:57—the Guide Voice appears briefly in the foreground alternat-ing with the Crowd Cheer; both drop out and are brought back in the same relationship for an important foreground statement at 2:11 to 2:20.

This consistent foreshadowing tendency explains the appearance of the Bm Pno/Voices from 3:47 to 3:54. On the surface, this seems contra-dictory to the rhythm of the structure, but it anticipates an important “home” statement commencing with the Guide Voice at 3:58 (the Bm Pno/Voices return at 4:03).

Foreshadowing goes hand-in-hand with a tendency to associate sound sources musically and dramatically, simply by stating similar forms in proximity to one another, by stating them as balanced points within a phrase structure, or by repeating patterns of elements from phrase to phrase. On the level of local detail: The lone, unsustained electric guitar note F occurring at 4:20 is followed at 4:24 by the same note in the same register played on the cello. The Oboe’s laughing character (1:37–52) is echoed in a woman’s nearly hysterical laughter (1:52–54); this laughter is replaced by the gurgling laughter of a baby (1:57–2:11). Similarity is sometimes achieved by tape manipulation as in the Baby’s first sounds at 1:57, mechanically pitched at Eb, Db, Eb—anticipating the first notes in upper voice of the Eb Minor Choir (Eb, Db, Eb) that follows at 2:00. It is also achieved through timbre—for instance, the near-white noise of the Massed Loops from 4:27 to 5:00 strongly resembles that of the Fire Hoses at 5:00. The Fire Hoses in turn fade into the similar timbre of the Cheering Crowd (“Hold that line” beginning at 5:12).

At the middleground level, we notice patterns and associations also between phrase groups and sections. One association binding elements on this larger scale is the creation of dramatic “scenes” using both real-world sounds and sounds manipulated into representations of real-world sounds. These scenes unify large segments of the composition under specific dramatic themes: A car honk, orchestral loops and fader manipulation imitate Traffic noise in I-C; the thumping bass seems to excite the rushing noise of the Fire Hoses and the Cheering Crowd that together dominate II-A; the sound of a Struggling Voice amid Flames in II-B gives way to the sounds of gunfire in II-C; the happy sound of Children Playing accompanies the Bm Pno/Paired Voices statement in II-D. In Example 2 above, I have given descriptive names to these sections in the “Section” column. The Children Playing and Crowd elements appear as secondary elements elsewhere, but each emerges once as the central focus of a particular passage. Altogether the named scenes account for roughly a third of the composition and represent the


principal technique of development. The presentation of these dramatic snapshots between 3:00 and 7:00 helps hold the collage together and create forward momentum. More importantly, most of these scenes reinforce the theme of mass experience and the threat to individuality central to the composer’s intention.

PITCHES

Each loop possesses its own internal rhythmic and pitch structure; the choice of loops and the interplay between them defines the overall harmonic character of the large sections as basically triadic, with one harmony serving as the basis for each large section and juxtaposed against other harmonies. Section I is dominated by the B minor tonality supplied by the Bm Piano and opposed or complemented by harmonies built on Eb, Bb, C major, C# and Bb minor. Section II begins with a sustained D major feel using a bass guitar pedal point on a low D and a trumpet-like pedal on a1. Voices chanting from the Crowd in this section seem to imply an F#, filling in the D major harmony. This moves briefly to a Bb dominant seventh (from the Backward SA Choir loop) before returning to B minor. Section III opens with a Bright Piano playing an octave A and a bass guitar alternating a low A with lower E; this harmony is interrupted with more ambiguous material and later reestablished via an A major melody in the second of two song excerpts recorded from radio broadcasts, followed by the same Bright Piano now playing E in octaves alternating with C#. (The Crowd chanting that ends the composition has no clear tonal implication of its own; the main voices that seem to be shouting an F# contribute to the D major feel of Section II, but are insufficient to establish a return to D in Section III.) The harmonic contour of the entire composition could thus be described:

Section I—B minor tonality with opposing chromatic inflections, most notably from Eb major and C major triads.

Section II—a D major triad followed first by Bb dominant seventh and then a return to B minor.

Section III—an A major triad followed by the ambiguously pitched, unaccompanied Cheering Crowd.

The persistence of the Bm Piano and its internally complete i-iio65 -i-V-i

progression seem to imply that the whole piece may heard “in” B minor;


but the case is never proved conclusively, leaving a harmonic ambiguity in line with the work’s deliberately unsettled aesthetic. Further, the juxtapositions of distant harmonies are an outgrowth of the collage technique that guides “Revolution 9”; thus describing these harmonies as part of a single scale or key would contradict the work’s very nature. More simply and perhaps more accurately, we could say that B minor represents the guiding thread to which all the other harmonies are attached.

Regarding the other “home” elements, the Paired Voices are entirely spoken and never imply any specific pitch. The Guide Voice is also speaking, but, as a short unaltered loop, it always emphasizes a clear glissando figure from b to b1 (a little flat). Each of the remaining elements emphasizes a different harmony: Eb in the Clarinet & Pizzicato Bass, C# minor in the Backward Piano, and a Bb dominant seventh in the Backward SA Choir. These harmonies all stand in opposition to one another, helping to create feelings of tension within areas of greater stability and to provide a sense of motion within otherwise static harmonic areas.

A melodic formula further links these “home” elements, framed at the outset in the Bm Piano as a harmonized melodic descent, the top line in the final cadence filling in a minor third (scale degrees 3–2–1 in B minor). The Clar & Pizz Bass is a loop consisting of a similar but inexact copy of the melodic descent (scale degrees 5–4–3 in Eb major). The top pitches of the Backward Piano loop ascend and descend through a minor third (scale degrees 1–2–3–2–1 in C# minor). The Backward SA Choir adds a lower neighbor to the final note (assuming the key is Eb, the soprano figure is a descent through scale degrees 2–1–7–6, where scale degree 6 is a lower neighbor moving immediately back up to scale degree 7). All of these minor thirds are voiced in the octave around b1, a pitch that has considerable significance as a focal point for the first half of the composition.

The use of similar melodic register throughout “Revolution 9” is exploited by the juxtaposition of harmonies that share a common tone but are otherwise only distantly related. This helps maintain the texture

EXAMPLE 5


of discontinuity necessary to the work, while also creating a feeling of similarity between the transformations themselves and within the melodic structure. A fairly consistent voice leading is exhibited, estab-lishing the pitch b1 as a melodic foundation that is treated to various oppositions and divergences in Section I, dropping to a1 for the opening of Section II. That pitch is reiterated in the opening of III.

Harmonies with the most significant tonal implications in Section I are broken down by subsection in Example 6. Harmonies are stated in order of appearance, although some may appear juxtaposed against others.

The Bm Piano is a simple harmonized melody that is repeated in three specific forms with only superficial differences between them, shown in Example 7.

The music of the last three chords of version 1 is highlighted more prominently throughout the piece as this element recurs. Noting this, we are able to use the B minor and F# major triads to represent the prevailing harmony in the subsections of Section I and the final two sub-sections of Section II; Section II-A and B may be represented by a D major triad and Section III represented by an A major triad. As the Tonnetz series in Example 8 shows, the principal pitched elements in each section typically share one common tone with the prevailing harmony in that section.

There are two clear exceptions shown in the Example 8 Tonnetz series: In Section I-D, the isolated pitches ab1 and f in combination with Lennon’s singing (roughly eb1 to ab) are represented here by a single sonority (F-Ab-Eb) that lies completely outside both the F# and B minor

Section I-A Section I-B Section I-C Section I-D

B Minor Eb Major V7 of Eb C# Minor

Eb major E Major B Minor B Minor

C# Minor B Minor CM7

Bb Major CM7 Bb Minor

V7 of Eb Gb Major

EXAMPLE 6


EXAMPLE 7


EXAMPLE 8A


EXAMPLE 8B

EXAMPLE 8C


triads (although it does have a G#/Ab in common with the Backward Piano). Likewise, in Section II-A and B, the C major seventh and F# major harmonies lie outside the principal triad of D major. In the second case, however, if we treated the D major as an inflection on a prolonged B minor harmony (articulated by the return of the Bm Piano in Section II-C) the anomaly disappears—the new Tonnetz would show common tones between all the harmonies (Example 9). However, in both cases, the heightened tension of the context creates an appropriate platform for the appearance of more pronounced oppositions.

To reiterate, these common tones are most often found in the same register, highlighting them as links in a harmonic chain. Sometimes the common tone is not stated by adjacency or superimposition, but is nonetheless implied in longer range relationships. The majority of the harmonies in Example 6 do not imply key centers closely related (in the sense of adjacency within the circle of fifths) to the most significant recurring pitched element in the composition, the Bm Piano. Rather it appears that common-tone relationships between this element and more distant harmonies is the desired effect. The closely related keys of D major, implied in Section II, and A major, in Section III, stand out more strongly as a result of this harmonic tendency.

Out of this cloud of harmonies, the pitches b1 and bb1 emerge as a melodic focus of Section I, heavily favored as common tones between elements. In Section I-A, loops of oboe and horn leaping in fifths and fourths respectively briefly imply an ambiguous white-key harmony (B, e, a, c1, d1, g1, a1, d2) that is not shown here; these loops intersect the voicing of the B minor triad with common pitches of B and d1. As mentioned earlier, B is also emphasized by an octave glissando (b to b1) in the Guide Voice. This element and a few others that merely reiterate pitches already given, are also not directly represented in Examples 8

EXAMPLE 9


and 9. The pitch a1, introduced in Section I, becomes a melodic focus in Sections II and III.

The b1 is supported by a low B in the Bm Piano as part of a solid B minor harmony and is reiterated by the Guide Voice and later by the C Maj Orch loop, with its heavy statement of the C major leading tone.9

The B minor/C major juxtaposition is highly significant, as it creates the expectation of the harmonic motion described above: opposition while emphasizing common tones. The first foreground appearance of the C Maj Orch is accompanied by a fade-in of the Bm Piano at 2:16–26, highlighting both the common tone and the chromatic opposition (Example 10).

From the outset, Lennon uses this technique to create areas imbued with harmonic tension, giving just us enough music within each loop to firmly establish a separate tonal identity. The following passage, shown in Example 11 (1:17–1:30), is a relatively transparent illustration of this tendency, pairing the Bm Piano and the Clarinet (in Eb). Note that in this example the pitch-classes G and A#/Bb are common tones, stated in a common register, while the low F in pianissimo pizzicato strings accompanying the clarinet fights against the piano’s F#, a chromatic dissonance that helps to maintain tension and to establish the two elements as a separate tonal identities. (a similar bass note clash occurs in the passage cited in example 10.)

The bb1, stated here as a grace note, is reiterated in the fanfare (first heard clearly at 0:54), the Rising Chord (0:37), the Clar 2 (3:39), and the Trumpet (2:28) elements.10 Typically, the bb1 is harmonized as the root of a Bb chord or the fifth of Eb. As noted in Example 11, it also is repeatedly linked to its enharmonic equivalent in the Bm Piano, the a#1

leading tone in the V chord.

EXAMPLE 10


The pitch-class F, while far less significant structurally, is also used elsewhere as a source of opposition to the Bm Piano. Usually this pitch-class is voiced as an octave f1-f2 by the Backward SA Choir, but at 4:20–4:25 it is sounded as a lone f stated twice (the electric guitar and cello correlation noted above). In the bass, the pitch classes C (emphasized independently by the C Major Orch. and the Horn) and Eb (emphasized by the pizzicato bass notes of the Clar & Pizz Bass loop) alternate with the low B of the B Minor Piano. In addition to the C Major Orch/Bm Piano relationship discussed earlier, the opposition of the notes B and C is elsewhere formed by the juxtaposition of sound elements, some with both pitches in the same register (as in the bass notes of Example 10) and some stating them in different registers. The B/C clash in the same register also appears within less important elements, reinforcing this opposition in superficial detail: a string-section tremolo b-c1 accom-panying the first Clar & Pizz Bass occurrence (0:25); a rewinding tape noise that ends with a b1-c2 trill in dotted rhythm (3:33); and an announcer’s voice (b-c1) calling over the Crowd at the ball game, also in dotted rhythm (3:29).

RHYTHMS AND LOOPS

The correlation of rhythmic patterns between loops is rare, but may be occasionally observed, such as the Oboe/Laughter relationship cited earlier. However, longer rhythms created by entrances of sound elements are audible within the frame of the larger, articulated period structure. These tend to cluster around multiples of five—fifteen

EXAMPLE 11


seconds, ten seconds and five seconds, give or take one or two seconds. These general timing patterns would be almost ridiculously imprecise in a more sophisticated electronic piece, but here they create an important expectation that may be satisfied or denied in any particular phrase. Section II-C, for instance, maintains a series of entrances approximately five seconds apart: Backward SA Choir, 5:39; Flames, 5:45; C Maj Orch and Struggling Voice, 5:49; Laser Weapons and Trumpet, 5:53; and Guns, 5:59. Part of the climactic effect of Section II-A hinges on emphasizing a train of foreground events every ten seconds: Fire Hoses, 5:00; Trumpet, 5:11; Massed Loops, 5:21. In addition, statements of a length of one to two seconds by distinctive elements appear throughout the composition, sometimes as a decorative device and sometimes as a reinforcement of the structure (as in the Guide Voice appearance at 3:00 and again at 3:58).

The segments of music used for loops range from a little under two seconds to six seconds, with most hovering around either three or five seconds. Internal tempos and meters rarely hold over from one loop to another. Frequently the splicing creates a new, odd meter out of what was a conventional meter. Some metrical implications found among the “home” elements are more distinctive and will be discussed shortly. The effect of a drone is highly important and is achieved several different ways: sustaining one pitch (in the Trumpet element), the recording of a single droning element (the Fire Hoses and the continuous thumping of a bass guitar, both used in the opening of Section II, the piano at the beginning and end of Section III-A and the Crowd noise throughout) or through the use of massed loops that continue a near-white-noise texture with little differentiation for relatively long stretches (for example, 4:27 to 5:00). This tendency toward long droning elements extends the idea of repeating loops and is used to create platforms on which to build new detail. As we will see, this elementary compositional technique supports, rather than replaces, a strict phrase structure.

Many of these snippets, like the first notes of the Baby mentioned above, are mechanically transposed to conform to local harmonic implications; others are always heard at original starting pitch (including the Bm Piano and the other “home” elements). The intonation of others is frequently slightly sharp, flat or varying.11 At least seven of the most significant loops are composed of recordings played backward, lending these elements a similarity of distorted texture that reinforces the composition’s surreal ambience (the Backward Piano, 0:39; Backward Guitar, 2:05; Eb Minor Choir, 2:00; Backward SA Choir, 2:44; Backward Bass & Drums, 0:39; 6/8 Strings, 1:30; and the Oboe, 1:00). No loop appears in both forward and backward statements.


Loops generally appear in the foreground for no more than two or three iterations at a time, helping to maintain a texture of discontinuity and rhythmic dissonance.

The treatment of the majority of sound elements thus contrasts sharply with the treatment of the “home” elements: the Paired Voices is a continuous forward-playback recording approximately six minutes long; the Bm Piano appears in three different versions, is in regular 3/4 time and is at least six bars long (its last three bars are generally heard in their entirety, although often in the background); the Guide Voice can have as many as fifteen iterations in a single appearance. The Backward SA Choir is spliced to sound like a measure of 5/4+1/16th (approximately). The Backward Piano is framed as a convincing 7/4 measure. As a dramatic introduction to the subsequent “home” state-ment, the Eb Minor Choir entrance at 2:00 approximates a measure of 9/8 plus a measure of 5/8.

TIMELINES

With the above observations in mind, we can now move through the entire composition. Using detailed timelines, I will describe each period in turn, limiting my remarks to details that may not be obvious from the timelines themselves. The first large section is divided into four sub-sections: from 0:00–1:57; from 1:57–3:00; from 3:00–3:55; and from 3:55–5:00.

SECTION I-A: 0:00–1:57This first subsection forms one long crescendo to a point at 1:52,

where a loop of hysterical laughter emerges in a brief solo. Example 12 reveals a tightly organized exposition, in which material from the first minute, including the Bm Piano, the Backward Piano and the Clar & Pizz Bass loop, is brought back in the second to preserve a sense of continuity, enabling the effect of an organized crescendo steadily pushing forward. Both 60-second intervals divide symmetrically into antecedent and consequent phrase groups at the 0:30 and 1:30 marks, with the antecedents marked by strong “home” statements. Both con-sequent episodes are prepared by a quiet, descending three-note loop from the Clar & Pizz Bass. A tense pianissimo b-c1 tremolo in Strings accompanies the Clarinet in the first minute; the Bm Piano accompanies in the second. The Backward Piano is introduced in the “episode” at 0:30, but is brought back at 1:06 with the following “home” statement, remaining associated with “home” elements from this point on. The


composer segues from the first minute into the second with a short transition. The end of the second minute however serves as the climax of this subsection and features a roughly ten-second long burst of activity marked by the hysterical laughter mentioned above. This idea recurs as a type of cadential formula—a ten-second developmental treatment of the material at the end of a phrase group that disturbs the texture somewhat and rounds off the preceding period.

The Paired Voices are introduced at 1:00 (with the Oboe, in a quiet but obvious articulation). These voices often blend into an unintelligible noise, a hubbub that adds a stream of tension flowing beneath the other elements. The voices are typically independent of their musical surroundings, maintaining a posture of complete detachment; the text itself contributes only confusion, never commentary. This element provides an important textural ostinato, simultaneously pushing the music forward and connecting it with the past.

A small gesture at 1:17, the running up of the faders for a split second, is slightly elaborated into two punchy fortissimo attacks within the climax, 1:53–54, a foreshadowing that also anticipates the use of the same fader technique in the Traffic scene (see the timeline “Section I-C" below). The Guide Voice re-enters in a transition at 1:57, heralding a change of texture.

EXAMPLE 12: SECTION I-A: 0:00–1:57


SECTION I-B: 1:57–3:00The next subsection, shown in example 13, serves as a second expo-

sition beginning with a ten-second introduction involving the Eb Minor Choir and the gurgling Baby, and followed by a “home” statement: the C Maj Orch fades in at 2:19, displacing the Guide Voice and heralding the new “episode,” a role filled by the Clar & Pizz Bass in the previous periods. The “episode” itself begins with the simultaneous entrance of the Crowd and the Backward SA Choir at 2:26. New elements are introduced at 2:41, splitting the “episode” into two parts and maintain-ing the symmetrical phrase structure. This second part dissolves follow-ing the exit of the Massed Loops and the Backward SA Choir into a new ten-second cadence. As in the cadence that ended Section I-A, a voice (this time Lennon’s) is permitted a solo as other elements are dramatic-ally faded out and faded back in again. The Guide Voice entrance at 2:57 heralds a new “home” statement arriving at 3:00.

Most clearly audible material in this section is new. Lennon’s singing—presumably from the lead vocal track of the “Revolution” jam session—and the Backward SA Choir are introduced here. Both are featured prominently several times in the remainder of the piece. Like the Backward Piano of Subsection A, the Backward SA Choir is introduced at the start of this subsection’s “episode,” but becomes permanently

EXAMPLE 13: SECTION I-B: 1:57–3:00


associated with “home” elements in the next “home” statement. Con-sisting of an articulation of the dominant seventh of Eb Major, the lilting rhythm and clear counterpoint of this loop contrast sharply with the tension of the Eb Minor Choir and the C Maj Orch, both prominent in “episodes.”

Where the previous subsection emphasized instrumental and orch-estral loops, this subsection emphasizes vocal and choral loops. For reasons I will discuss later, it is important to note that the Paired Voices seem to transform into the Crowd Noise; Lennon’s singing is also associated with the Crowd Noise, a juxtaposition that seems to imply that he is with the Crowd, possibly even inciting the Crowd. The Guide Voice appearance toward the beginning of this 60-second segment is balanced by Lennon’s singing toward the end of the minute, thus relating the two elements (the Guide Voice and Lennon’s voice) for the first time. At 2:10–22, the Guide Voice is heard in an alternating rhythm with a short loop of a crowd cheering in heavy reverb, a rare occurrence of precise synchronization that further links these two elements.

SECTION I-C: 3:00–4:00This subsection (example 14) is more developmental than the others

in Section I, and more closely resembles activity that occurs later, between 5:00 and 5:39, in that the importance of the “home” statement is minimized and a dramatic theme unifies a large segment of the period.

At 3:04 a car jack drops onto a concrete floor, foreshadowing the imitation of Traffic to come. “home” statement elements continue until 3:08 when a fade-in of the C Maj Orch again introduces the “episode,” as in I-B. The “episode” begins properly at 3:11, with car-honking, joined by the sharp fading in and out of loops in a low register, together creating the effect of vehicles passing by the listener at a high speed. This Traffic segment lasts until 3:25. The car horn is rhythmically synchronized with a looped, bouncy pizzicato in low strings. The fader action is made more pronounced by panning between the stereo speakers—like the first appearance of the Guide Voice, this panning situates the listener directly in the representative action.

The material immediately following, until 3:57, is a highly fragmented episode, featuring Children Playing, a brief restatement of the Guide Voice, and the reemergence of the Bm Pno/Paired Voices, a fore-shadowing of a “home” statement that begins at 3:57. This segment is the only relatively quiet “episode” statement in “Revolution 9.” Con-trasting with the children’s voices, the sound of an apparently gagged


male voice appears for the first time—this Struggling Voice is part of Lennon’s vocal track from the original “Revolution” sessions, but has the feel of a distinct element, one of the more disturbing elements in “Revolution 9.”

SECTION I-D: 4:00–5:00At the 4:00 mark, the Guide Voice entrance is cut off, and the

Backward Piano enters, but the sharp textural articulation we would expect is downplayed, delayed until 4:27 (example 15). The Paired Voices are overwhelmed by Crowd Noise at 4:14, accompanied by Lennon singing, compressing an event sequence noted in I-B. The episode is heralded by a lone Ab Cello (reminiscent of the Trumpet); the end of the episode is heralded by the appearance, discussed earlier, of the lone electric guitar note f, followed by the same pitch played on the cello, concurrent with the Crowd Noise. The presence of the Bm Piano adds a poignancy to the moment through its quiet harmonic opposition.

At 4:27 an explosive entrance of massed loops marks the beginning of the consequent phrase, a transition into Section II. The most important elements in this dense texture are the Guide Voice, the Cheering Crowd, the Rising Chord, Choir/Orch Fanfare and a new segment of the Struggling Voice. Others are identifiable in the mass of sound, but do not stand out, merely contributing, with their presence, to the crescendo from ff to fff. The crescendo is punctuated by cymbal crashes roughly 2.5 seconds apart from the Fanfare (a looped excerpt of choir and orchestra), contributing to the mounting tension. A clear splice at

EXAMPLE 14: SECTION I-C: 3:00–4:00


5:00 marks the beginning of Section II. The antecedent of Section I-D contains a combination of “home” elements last heard together in Section I-A. The cadence at 4:20–30 rounds off Section I and prepares for the transition material that arrives at 4:30.

In sum, Section I exhibits a strict phrase structure. Each minute contains an antecedent and consequent phrase group; each of these groups consists of a pairing of phrases, (except the more developmental consequent phrase at 3:30). The same cadential formula is used at 1:50 and 2:50, implied again at 3:50 and used convincingly to close the next antecedent phrase at 4:20.

I hear this opening section as an A-B-C-A' form as noted in the “Structure” column of Example 2 above, where C (Section I-C, 3:00–4:00) continues themes presented in A and B and introduces techniques of development, notably the depiction in sound of a dramatic scene, that will be further explored in Section II. Minute 4:00–5:00 (Section I-D) serves to reassert the opening thematic material and transition into Section II.

SECTION IISection II, shown in its entirety in example 16, consists of previously

stated material combined with new surface details (notably the Hoses, Flames and gunfire elements). The Hoses element that opens the section is inextricably linked to the Crowd noise, both thematically, acoustically and contextually: such hoses are commonly used to control unruly crowds; the noise created by the Cheering Crowd here emerges directly from the similar noise of the Fire Hose.

EXAMPLE 15: SECTION I-D: 4:00–5:00


The first two subsections (5:00–39 and 5:39–6:17) are dominated by representational music on the sequential themes of Riot, Flames threat-ening the Struggling Voice, and War (gunfire). The third subsection (6:17–6:39) presents a brief “home” statement and episode that fleetingly restates many of the significant loops we have heard pre-viously. The final subsection consists of the Bm Pno/Voices paired with the crowd of Children Playing in a long “home” statement terminating in the now familiar 10-second cadential formula.

SECTION II-A: 5:00–5:39—RIOT

Dominated by the rushing noise of high-pressure water hoses, this section also features Lennon’s voice in the Paired Voices, appearing more agitated than elsewhere, and a variable speed, rewinding tape effect imitated immediately by Lennon’s voice now screaming wildly. The relative excitement of Lennon’s voice in the Paired Voices during this section (he seems to be straining to make himself heard above the

EXAMPLE 16: SECTION II


din) and the sound of his voice screaming establish an overlap of identity between the Paired Voices and the Struggling Voice. The noise of the Hoses changes to the Cheering Crowd chanting first “hold that line” and later “block that kick;” this same element will be used as solo material to end “Revolution 9.”

SECTION II-B: 5:39–5:53—FLAMES & WAR

A “home” statement at 5:39 consisting of the Backward SA Choir and the Bm Pno/Voices is permitted only a five-second window before fading out as the Flames enter at 5:44, coupled with the Struggling Voice. The consistent use in the phrase structure of Section I has created the expectation here for a substantial “home” statement, to be followed by an “episode.” The role of the “home” statement as a point of relative rest is instead overwhelmed by the entrance of the elements just men-tioned, continuing the increase of tension and imposing a heightened sense of disorder and disorientation. The period itself turns out to be a more complete three-phrase structure, unlike the symmetrical two-part structures in Section I.

The Struggling Voice segues to the War section (War A), beginning at 5:53 with a Trumpet note (like a bugle call) and the sound of “sci-fi” weapons; this gives way to gunfire and whooping sounds as if from the soundtrack of a Hollywood Western (War B). The Flames sound is replaced at 5:49 by the C Maj Orch in the right speaker, replaced in turn at 6:00 by Massed Loops entering simultaneously in the left speaker as the war sounds continue. Emerging from the Massed Loops, the Cheering Crowd gets in one “block that kick” as this subsection ends.

SECTION II-C: 6:17–6:39At 6:17, all this is replaced by the Bm Pno/Voices, featuring

Harrison’s voice saying “only to find the night watchman, unaware of his presence in the building” as Lennon’s voice proclaims “onion soup.” This section continues until 6:53, but is overlaid with an assortment of loops and sounds that form an episode from 6:24 to 6:39—these include the Car Honk, Crashing Cymbals, Shushing, Guide Voice and Children Playing. This last element remains with the Bm Pno/Voices after the others fade out at 6:39. The appearance of the Guide Voice at 6:31, strengthens our sense of return in the coming “home” statement; this element, so critical as a herald of “home” statements in the first half of the composition, is entirely absent in Section II with this one exception.


SECTION II-D: 6:39-6:52The final “home” statement in this Section arrives exactly 60 seconds

after the brief “home” statement at 5:39. I believe Lennon considered 5:39–6:39 to be one 60-second episodic period. This fits with my hearing of the brief “home” statement from 6:17–6:23 as a foreshadow-ing of the more important “home” statement emerging at 6:39, as if, in the earlier statement, the main theme were struggling to assert itself.

From 6:39 until 6:52, the Bm Pno/Voices are coupled with the Children Playing in the most stable “home” statement we have heard since the first minute of “Revolution 9.” This subsection closes the circle of the form that began with the opening of Section I and gives the new material introduced in Section III the feel of a coda. A compressed transition takes us into Section III. This is the same pattern we heard at the end of Section I, where opening material was reintroduced to round off the first five minutes, followed by a transition into Section II. The sound of Children Playing at 3:30, leading into the “home” statement and transition into Section II, seems paralleled by the same element’s presence here, now associated with the “home” elements at 6:39.

At 6:52, everything is cut off, replaced by a split second of new material—martial music, with the snare drum being the most prominent sound. This is replaced again at 6:53 with Lennon’s voice (emerging from the Paired Voices) saying with a hint of drama, “Take this brother, may it serve you well.” With this, Lennon inserts himself into the composition in a very personal way, stepping out of his disinterested role in the Paired Voices and taking the active role of the Guide Voice—the role of the herald that launches the final large section.

An important thread has been created by a specific subset of asso-ciated elements related to Lennon’s voice. In order of appearance:

The introductory conversation from 0:00–0:09,

The Guide Voice, that calls Lennon’s number and heralds moments of significant change,

The Paired Voices, one of which is Lennon himself, which refer back in texture and tenor to the opening nine-second conversation,

The Cheering Crowd—this element first appears to grow out of the Paired Voices texture in the subsection from 2:00–3:00,

Lennon singing from the original “Revolution” tape. This element also appears as the Struggling Voice; it becomes closely associated


with the Guide Voice and the Cheering Crowd from 2:00–3:00 and 4:00–4:27 and with Lennon’s voice in the Paired Voices in the sub-section 5:00–5:39,

Lennon’s voice saying “take this, brother . . . ,” as herald of Section III, taking over the structural role previously held by the Guide Voice.

In the beginning of the composition, these elements seem disparate and distinct, but over time the boundaries between them are deliberately blurred, culminating in Lennon saying “take this, brother” at 6:53, a moment set off by content and framed by splices, separating it from all surrounding material. All of the associations with Lennon’s voice that have built up over the course of the composition are focused in this one statement, the Crowd, the Guide Voice, the Paired Voices, even the serenity of the Backward Choir. Moreover this is the first spoken voice other than The Guide Voice to actually address the listener; the gesture of offering the listener something (“take this”) and addressing the listener as “brother” seems a hard-edged, conspiratorial kindness stand-ing in direct opposition to the Guide Voice’s cold calling by number. This voice is, in short, a lens focusing what has come before and project-ing into the future. Lennon himself seems to emphasize the importance of the moment by adding the sound of the mechanical switch being thrown—an asterisk and a clear indicator that something new is coming, everything is about to change. The development of this vocal-element trend continues into Section III, where it is transformed into Ono’s voice and becomes the central element of the dramatic climax.

SECTION III-A & B: 6:56–8:21Section III is launched as a splice at 6:56. In III-A, brand new

material is introduced and all previous material is cut off—this section is a self-contained collage and stands in greatest contrast to the whole of the composition. We hear a train arriving, a radio playing two different songs in succession, a high female voice (Yoko Ono’s) trying to describe a very personal experience of some kind, and a low male voice (George Martin’s), distracted and turned into a grunting loop that serves as a bass ostinato. A piano plays two As an octave apart in staggered rhythm over a bass guitar playing low A and E, and then slams both hands on the keyboard. While the contrast of musicality and frustration are important to the mood of this section, this element also serves to establish a new tonal center on A, preserved throughout III-A, setting off this section tonally from the preceding material. Increasingly over


the next 60 seconds, the high female voice comes further into the foreground while at the same time the collection of noises around her seem to threaten her more and more. Within a window of relative quiet, she says “you . . . you become naked”—this is the first and only time we are able to discern this voice speaking a complete sentence and the last time any solo voice is heard. The exposed vulnerability of this phrase forms the dramatic climax of the composition—not the loudest part, to be sure, but most definitely the point of greatest tension. Highlighting the sense of vulnerability, all the elements just described are immediately (cruelly) terminated by a splice that returns us to the Cheering Crowd again chanting first “hold that line” and then “block that kick”; this element continues and fades out to the end. The juxtaposition of Ono’s girlish “naked”-ness and the Cheering Crowd is jarring. Like the Children Playing and the Struggling Voice, or the Baby and the Hyster-ical Laughter, this illustrates the fragility of individuality in the face of crowd mentality and crowd violence, an opposition that is at the heart of “Revolution 9.”

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF FORM

Sections I and II constitute a large arch structure, with an internal climax occurring around 6:00 and a relaxation from the tension of the

EXAMPLE 17: SECTION III


climax from 6:17 to 6:53, a period dominated by restatements of material from Section I. Section III serves as a two-part coda; the new material in the first half holds the dramatic climax of the composition; the second half returns us to the tension of “episode” material. Lennon almost certainly did not consider these to be points of comparison with any traditional form, but the temptation remains to hear it that way. In my opinion, it has been useful to hear this structure as an intuitive sonata-form analogy (as my sectioning in the Structure column of example 2 indicates). For Hammond, the comparison of “home” state-ments and “episodes” to the subjects and episodes of fugue technique is more compelling (Hammond also cites the consistent associations between elements and the overlapping of statements as a type of stretto, bolstering this interpretation). Both, however are personal ways of hearing a linear structure that is best defined as a highly structured collage. As noted in the Ali interview quoted above, Lennon associated “Revolution 9” with the avant garde musique concrète literature, a comment that seems to validate my growing regard for the form of “Revolution 9” as an outgrowth of the compositional process rather than as a traditional vessel for nontraditional ideas.

An outtake mix of the recording session of June 20, 1968, as “Revolution 9” was beginning to take on a life of its own, shows Lennon appearing to have developed a conception of the work as a train of minute-long segments only gradually, but probably aiming for the nine-minute mark from a relatively early stage.12 Much detail is missing from this mix (most of the voices, for instance, as well as any obvious elements from the original “Revolution 1” jam session); after seven minutes the recording simply trails off with no attempt at any kind of an ending, implying that Lennon planned to extend this somehow. On the other hand many of the elements that do appear in this preliminary mix remain in the final mix in more or less the same sequence and context. The final mix edits out sections of material from the acetate mix at around the 1:00 mark, the 2:00 mark and the 5:00 mark, showing that the composer was later attempting to tighten the focus at these moments. By the time we reach the 5:00 mark in the final mix, we have lost nearly 30 seconds of music from the acetate mix.

As can be seen elsewhere in their recordings, Lennon and McCartney viewed the use of musical style as a message in itself, to be treated as a vital element in the creative process, often crossing the line into parody. In Lennon’s best songs, the underlying associations of the style harmonize with the message of the lyrics.13 In this case, the deliberate use of musique concrète situates Lennon’s message outside the realm of pop music. To be precise, the choice of musique concrète aligns the


composer’s message with both the radical intentions and the aloof, self-constructed social stations of the contemporary avant-garde elite. Lennon was invoking not just the sound but the perceived value and seriousness of this high-art style (raising his status to “composer” from “songwriter”), attempting to place his message in a more objective and dignified context. The abstract form invites each listener to find personal meaning, underscoring Lennon’s preoccupation with the integrity of the individual in society. But this abstract form and elevated social arena also conveniently detach Lennon from his very personal message, a detachment seen as a trend throughout his work prior to the influence of Yoko Ono.

Lennon’s knowledge of the elite avant-garde included familiarity with both Karlheinz Stockhausen and John Cage.14 Yoko Ono, more importantly, was a collaborator of Cage’s and, like many others in the Fluxus movement, her artwork manifested many of Cage’s ideas. The very fact that Ono and Lennon had periodic contact prior to 1968 indicates that Lennon had access to artistic circles where Cage’s influence was strongly felt. Specific works that might have influenced “Revolution 9” include Cage’s Rozart Mix, a 1965 work to be performed live that calls for 88 tape loops fed through twelve machines by at least four performers. The loops are to be cut to a wide variety of different lengths and run forward and backward; Cage further suggests using “non-pop” music (i.e., classical recordings) and speaking voices as source material (Cage: Rozart Mix score, p. 1, 4). Lennon also most likely knew Stockhausen’s tape works Hymnen (1966-67) and Gesang der Jünglinge (1955–6), both of which use voices, tape and electronic effects. Neither Rozart nor Hymnen were publicly available in commer-cially available recorded form, but Lennon could have known either work or both through tapes or acetates circulating privately.15 A ten-minute electronic tape realization of Cage’s Fontana Mix was widely available in an LP version that shares the playful, improvisatory spirit of “Revolution 9.” On the other hand, the two-hour long Hymnen is like “Revolution 9” in several significant, if superficial, respects (particularly Region 1) and constitutes a similarly somewhat-ambiguous sociopolitical critique.16

The use of classical music as source material in these instances was probably intended as a form of radicalism, skewering or skewing the popular understanding of traditional repertoire (with its implications of old-fashioned and socially conservative institutions and patterns of behavior known collectively in youth culture of the time as “the estab-lishment”) through fragmentation and recontextualization. In this respect, it is interesting to note that Lennon disguised his source


material, never allowing any pre-existing musical theme to come into the foreground. Specific composers or works are never readily apparent. In other words, he’s not merely painting a moustache on the “Mona Lisa,” but is absorbing into his artwork pitch material and textures from recorded repertoire, together with accompanying social implications of these traditions.

In its techniques, “Revolution 9” cannot be adequately described as a direct descendant of either Stockhausen or Cage, but shows a little of both: Stockhausen’s use of clear, preconceived and composer-controlled form, including timed elements; Cage’s improvisational use of tape loops, particularly in massed textures. Cage favored a nontraditional formal construction that emphasized discontinuity. Stockhausen pursued a similar aesthetic (but including strict parameters not found inCage) that he called “moment form” (Toop, “3. Aesthetic Position”).17

“Revolution 9” certainly has much in common with these twin aes-thetics but also seems to contradict them with a traditional reliance on arch structures, climax and long-range similarities—devices Cage con-sidered “banal” (Cage 1961, 75). Here it seems more relevant to cite Lennon’s history as a successful songwriter. Likewise his very personal message (“riding the vehicle of his political stance”) and intention (“painting in sound a picture of a revolution”) is typical of neither Stockhausen nor Cage, both of whom favored more complex and ambiguous projections that emphasized form and the handling of content over personal or extramusical expression. Lastly, the repertoire of available Beatles’s recording techniques, though sophisticated in the pop world, are significantly more limited than those found in Stockhausen and Cage and have their own precedents in the Beatles earlier recordings. Thus “Revolution 9,” like most Beatles tracks, cries out to be considered on its own terms, reflective of styles both contemporary and traditional, but in the end beholden to neither.

III. READING “REVOLUTION 9”

“Revolution 9” is an apocalyptic vision. Lennon has lost faith in humanity, particularly in the leaders of society, and offers a grim allegory of a mindless crowd incapable of acting for the good of the individual, channeling its own groupthink momentum into violence and destruction. The crowd wins in the end, rudely shutting out the message of naked individuality with team spirit and an appropriate cry of “block that kick.”

The fragmentation in “Revolution 9,” alone and combined with other


elements at work in the piece, creates a sense of disturbance and confusion, a feeling that we are viewing the same dream-like scene, or scenes, from many different perspectives at once. This confusion is both an expression of the crowd (societal confusion) and of the composer (an inner confusion), leading us to the notion of the crowd as representative of the individual’s psychological plurality, a manifestation of Lennon’s internal war. These two interpretations of the crowd—as external force or internal turmoil—are not contradictory, but complementary, an expression of Lennon’s actual conflict regarding issues of leadership and participation in a society in transformation.

Apart from crowd noise, other significant manipulations also imply mass experience, like the thematic references to Traffic and War, or the piling up of loops to recreate in sound the crushing effect of humans en masse. At the same time a few contrasting sound sources seem to represent a fragile individuality that is opposed to these mass-experience elements. The Baby, the Struggling Voice, the lone guitar and cello note all share an exposed vulnerability in the crowd of massed textures and foreshadow the vulnerability of Ono’s speaking voice in Section III. In particular, the Struggling Voice is first introduced as Lennon singing as part of (or even inciting) the crowd. As it turns into the Struggling Voice we sense that the violence has turned on the singer, that his participation has led to his suffering at the hands of the crowd.18 The threat of the loss of individuality is personified in the “number nine” voice, the Guide Voice which heralds many crucial changes. Coupled with its recurring nature, this idée fixe helps create a sense of mech-anical, irresistible tension and carries a message of powerlessness on the part of the numbered, waiting people.

The droning of the Paired Voices is ambiguous in many respects: making sense but not making sense; belonging to the crowd while permitting the two speakers to retain individual identity; opposing the instantaneous shifts and fragmentary structure of the collage by its con-stancy while supporting that structure by acting as a critical unifying element. These ambiguities are positive and dynamic in this environ-ment. The Paired Voices holds the composition together in an atmos-phere of constant distraction, tension, and confusion, inhabiting the gray line separating the individual from society. The unbroken mundan-ity of the speakers’ content adds a sense of uncomprehending self-involvement and impotence on the part of individuals in the face of the steamrolling consequences of mass movement and the larger forces of society.

Along with the Cheering Crowd, several loops of orchestral musicand choir music also represent massed humanity—the orchestra and the


choir are, in fact, powerful symbols of crowd unity, a cooperative repression of individual identity toward the execution of a single idea. These elements are not just symbols of crowds but are literally the sounds of masses of people. Musically and contextually these are mostly used in episodic passages, taking the crowd’s side in the confrontation between individual and crowd.

Lennon’s confusion, expressed by his singing voice as the crowd’s leader/victim, is focused in the transition into Section III (“Takethis, brother . . .”). Taking the role of the Guide Voice, he absorbs the confusion of human voices that have cried out to this point and redirects the listener toward a solution found in Ono’s subsequent narrative: the message of commonality behind individual human experiences. Just as the lyric of “Revolution 1” calls for revolution through the rejection of revolution, this moment offers a resolution of no resolution, an invita-tion to separate ourselves from the struggles of the crowd and acknowl-edge the shared unknowable of human identity. To put it another way, a retreat into personal, internal experience also holds out the promise of a return to tribal unity (to borrow McLuhan’s term). This thought is foreshadowed by the comforting Backward SA Choir, a crowd-type element that is early on associated with the “home” statements and represents a spiritual union, a kind of ideal, cooperative democracy.

There is an aspect of the heroic in Ono’s voice in Section III—vulnerable, threatened, and patiently defiant of the wave that would engulf her. She is herself individuality personified, a rare gift offered, only to be refused by the crowd, who seek to stop the message by chanting “block that kick.” In the end, only the Cheering Crowd remains; all the other elements are eliminated and the case for individuality is lost. Our lingering sense of violation and loss is only partly relieved by the prolonged peacefulness and playful kitsch of the next track “Good Night,” a Lennon lullaby that caresses the listener as a child, coaxing sleep. Fresh from the nightmare imagery of “Revolution 9,” “Good Night” appears a somewhat disturbing about face, uncon-vincingly nursing nervousness and fear. In pointing toward sleep, this song reinforces the artist’s message of disengagement, however more tenderly. Coming at the end of an album side that begins with “Revolution 1” and climaxes with “Revolution 9,” “Good Night” picks up the message of both and places them gently in the listener’s lap.

The creation of the message of these tracks required Lennon’s critical psychological state. He was a political dissident with a deep distrust of system and authority, a distrust that fought with an inner desire for change and left him, during the years 1968–70, in a political and social no-man’s land, in which Yoko Ono appears his only real ally and


confidant. His break with the Maharishi, the collapse of his first marriage, the ongoing disintegration of the Beatles as friends and collaborators, the newfound union with Ono that instantly created for them both the bliss of union and the trauma of alienation—all of it is here finds creative expression. Yet, the message defies summary: The trust of “Power to the People” (1971) or the distrust of “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with the world: people”—both are equally true in this work. “Give Peace a Chance” is a cheap slogan by comparison to the complexity of “Revolution 9,” as cheap in fact as his parting quip to the Black Dwarf editors on the subject of violent revolution: “You smash it—and I’ll build around it.”(Ali, 360) These sentiments are all present in this composition, but none come close to summarizing its intent. The revolution being described here is intensely personal and broadly political; its possible meanings are plural for each individual listener. As a celebration and a warning about individuality, it is a great artistic achievement. As a challenge to the supremacy of the crowd, it was predestined to be ignored by Beatles fans.


NO TE S

1. In this article, I will use the widely accepted popular title, the White Album, for the collection formally known as The Beatles.

2. In the development of this article, an email correspondence devel-oped between myself and my older brother, Grady Wilkinson, a college freshman the year the White Album was released. It quickly became clear that his opinion was framed by his view of the Beatles as contemporaries. I was a child when the White Album came out and my mature opinion is therefore necessarily framed by a view of the Beatles's music as a historical event, rather than as a contempo-rary social or political concern.

3. A sentiment later echoed by The Who in the song “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” encapsulated in the line, “Meet the new boss; same as the old boss.”

4. Lennon's writing, in particular A Spaniard in the Works, mocks tra-ditional, popular poetic forms and notes in a flippant, comical way, their use as both expression and a reinforcement of class structure. The poems of A Spaniard in the Works are a kind of playful graffiti, a tug at the beards of the literary establishment.

5. “The power of sheer numbers, in wealth or in crowds, to set up a dynamic drive toward growth and aggrandizement is mysterious. . . . In the theater, at a ball, at a ball game, in church, every individual enjoys all those others present. The pleasure of being among the masses is the sense of the joy in the multiplication of numbers, which has long been suspect among the literate members of Western society.” (McLuhan, 104)

“Pushed to the mechanized extreme, letters have often seemed to produce effects opposite to civilization, just as numbering in earlier times seemed to break tribal unity, as the Old Testament declares ('And Satan rose up against Israel, and moved David to number Israel.') Phonetic letters and numbers were the first means of frag-menting and detribalizing man.” (Ibid., 105)

6. Acccording to Lewisohn this is Alistair Taylor, office manager at Apple Corps, and George Martin. (Lewisohn, 162)

7. This is, in fact, the beginning of the track as indicated on the CD (“can you take me back” is referenced as the conclusion of the previ-ous track), and also the starting point cited by Hammond in his


analysis. However, Everett uses the end of the conversation—the entrance of the Bm Piano—as the zero point. Thus approximately nine seconds should be added to the timings he cites to match up with those used here.

8. Everett identifies the Backward Piano as a reversed looped passage from the finale of Myra Hess's EMI recording of Schumann’s Sym-phonic Etudes, Op. 13, and the Guide Voice as an excerpt from an EMI engineer’s testing tape (Everett, 175). Stuart Eltham, quoted in Lewisohn, says the “number nine” voice was part of taped exami-nations done by Abbey Road for the Royal Academy of Music. That might explain the source of the Bm Piano, a rather amateurishlyperformed waltz for piano solo. The Paired Voices is discussed else-where. The Backward SA Choir source is unknown.

9. Everett identifies the C Maj Orch as the final measures of Sibelius’s Symphony No. 7. (Everett, 175)

10. Everett identifies the first four of these as, respectively, an excerpt from the Vaughan Williams motet “O Clap Your Hands,” the orch-estral transition from “A Day in the Life” (from the Beatles’s Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band), and a clarinet playing “swami” or “snake-charmer tune.” In the case of the Trumpet, Everett notes that at least one of the instances that I identify is actually Yoko Ono singing a sustained note. This is backed up by Lewisohn, who notes that during the Paired Voices recordings, Lennon and Harrison were “abetted by Yoko Ono humming at a very high pitch.” (Lewisohn, 138)

11. Tape loops can be made any length by simply diverting the tape around a capstan mounted on a stand, or similar device, and then moving the stand the appropriate distance to create the right amount of tension. Obviously, in this crude process, some variation in tape speed is to be expected. Loop players are also able to refine tape speeds by simply dragging a finger on the reels to slow them down or interfering with the tension on the tape (Cage, Rozart Mix). Further, each of the Brennell portable tape machines used by the Beatles for creation and playback of these loops had a built-in variable-speed control. Spooling was often done using a pencil. These conditions create the opportunity for large degrees of acci-dental and deliberate variation in pitch. Sound from an ensemble of loop players (engineers, assistants and musicians) scattered through-out the three studios of Abbey Road was fed into a central mixing board with Lennon at the controls, using the faders as a type of key-


board to trigger and balance the more or less continuous sounds. (Lewissohn, 72, 138)

12. According to Lewisohn, this session ended at 3:30 a.m. on June 21. Another overdub of effects was done the next evening, prior to the creation of a stereo mix. This resulted into a near-complete mix of “Revolution 9” lasting 9:05 on June 25 that was edited down to 8:12. The 9-second conversation that opens the music was added on sometime during a 24-hour session, October 16–17, for the final sequencing of tracks just prior to the album's release. (Lewisohn, 138–9, 162)

13. To give a few examples, Lennon used a folksy waltz character bor-rowed from Nashville artists to create an extra hint of loneliness in “Hide Your Love Away,” a stripped-down, folk ballad for the heart-felt tribute to his deceased mother, “Julia,” the famous Adagio Sostenuto of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in C# Minor, Op. 27, no. 2 (“Moonlight”) as the inspiration for the meditative wonder of “Because,” and a laid-back Chicago blues formula in “Revolution 1” to preach on a theme of personal disengagement from political upheaval. With McCartney, the White Album’s “Back in the U.S.S.R.” makes a witty Beach Boys satire, a reversal of U.S. pop culture's mindless propagation of Cold War nationalism that neatly spotlights the underlying bigotries and stereotypes.

14. Cornelius Cardew and other prominent Londoners performing at the time worked with and were directly influenced by both Cage and Stockhausen and may have had in turn some influence over the work of the Beatles. In the winter of 1965, McCartney was “gorg-ing himself on culture,” attending classes and lectures on art and philosophy and studying at Guildhall School of Music, where he came into contact with the music of Luciano Berio and Stock-hausen. (Spitz, 597)

15. Intriguingly, a rather deliberately un-Stockhausen-like realization of Stockhausen’s “Plus Minus” (1963) was mounted by Gavin Bryars within weeks of the release of the White Album. (Fox, 22). In that performance (which Stockhausen later decried), Bryars also made significant use of classical music recordings, speaking voices and taped “found” sounds. At the very least such a coincidence demon-strates the presence and popularity of these ideas among the artistic elite in London and suggests they were available to Lennon as mod-els for various aspects of his composition.


16. Striking similarities include Hymnen’s use of radio static, a voice that utters “neuf; the nine” in solemn nonsequitur and the use of simultaneous voices speaking different texts. Stockhausen himself claimed that Lennon had been inspired by Hymnen and that he and Lennon conversed about music on the phone. Other secondary sources have claimed Lennon “openly admitted” that Hymnen was his inspiration for “Revolution 9” (Didcock). I have yet to find this verified in Lennon’s words or by reliable Lennon biographers. The Beatles as a group did admire Stockhausen, as is evident by the appearance of his photo among the crowd of famous faces on the cover of the Beatles’s album Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart’s Club Band and public comments from McCartney have verified this (Lewisohn, 15).

17. Toop uses the word “non-directional” to describe “moment form” and quotes Stockhausen’s description as that “in which one has to expect a minimum or a maximum at each moment . . . which have always begun already and could go on that way without limit; in which each present instant counts, or nothing counts at all.”

18. Here it seems relevant to recall that greatest attention given “Revo-lution 9” by Beatles fans was as a clue to the “Paul is dead” conspiracy theory that circulated in 1969-70. Playing “Revolution 9” backward was rumored to produce the sound of a car crash and a man struggling to escape the flames—supposedly a depiction of McCartney’s demise. Thus on some level it seems fans understood the meaning of this section and associated it (more or less correctly) with the end of the Beatles.


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