FEATURE:
The ‘Red and Green’ Album: 1963–1969
Inside The Beatles’ Christmas Records
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PHOTO CREDIT: Michael Ochs Archive/Getty Images
here about the Christmas records that The Beatles put out between 1963 and 1969. An end-of-year treat for the fan club, they started quite modest and a little ramshackle. They became much more production pieces and impressive by the end. The first record was issued on 6th December, 1963. I wanted to mark sixty years of that debut Christmas record from the band – though I also wanted to look closely at all the albums with the assistance of some great and detailed features. We do not really have it so much now but, in the 1960s, there would have been artists who sent fans Christmas messages and recorded special songs. Few were as converted and interesting as The Beatles’ annual messages. At the end of 1963, there was this enormous interest in this fresh band who had already conquered the world. I would say that, given the fact that the final Beatles single, Now and Then, was released recently, there would be appetite for their Christmas records. They can be found if you want to own the records. I am not sure how easy it is to get good quality new versions of the various records. They do need to be reissued. In 2017, a special release was announced:
“Each Christmas, from 1963 to 1969, The Beatles sent out musical and spoken messages to members of their official fan club, pressed on flexi discs. Those had never been released beyond the fan club until the release of this new Christmas Records boxset.
Press release:
WE ARE RINGING IN THE HOLIDAYS WITH NEW GLOBAL BEATLES RELEASES
London – November 2, 2017 – Apple Corps Ltd./Capitol/UMe are wrapping up new, global Beatles releases for the holiday season, and a splendid time is guaranteed for all.
The Beatles’ annual holiday tradition of recording jolly Christmas messages for fan club members was an important part of the band’s relationship with their most ardent supporters, affectionately referred to by them as “Beatle People.”
Spanning 1963 to 1969, The Beatles’ holiday recordings were originally pressed on flexi discs and mailed to fan club members each December. Never released beyond the fan club until now, The Beatles’ seven holiday messages have been newly pressed on a rainbow of seven-inch colored vinyl singles for The Christmas Records box set, to be released worldwide on December 15.
The limited edition collection presents each vinyl single with its original flexi disc sleeve artwork, accompanied by a 16-page booklet with recording notes and reproductions of the fan club’s National Newsletters, which were mailed to members with the holiday flexi discs”.
It is a shame that they are sold out! I for one would love to own them. When people are asking what the next reissue is going to be, perhaps another studio album would be a better start. Even so, there is so much charm to be found in those Christmas albums. They are a rare and distinct snapshot of The Beatles in that particular year. Maybe, towards the end of the run, they found it a bit of a slog. From 1963’s debut, The Beatles Christmas Record, through to 1969: The Beatles Seventh Christmas Record, the fans got this early present from their favourite band! An L.P. compilation of all seven Christmas records, From Then to You, came out in the U.K. - and The Beatles Christmas Album in the U.S. – came out in 1970. I want to liberally source a feature from Rolling Stone. They wrote how these brief holiday messages and collections really did “offer a glimpse into their stunning evolution”. They covered all seven albums in their feature. I am going to select four of them to focus on:
“Between 1963 and 1969, the Beatles sent limited-edition Christmas singles to paid-up members of their fan club. Consisting of wordplay-laden spoken messages, surreal skits and snatches of original songs, these ultra-rare plastic “flexidisc” records existed in a hazy area between bootlegs and legitimate, if tough to find, releases. In 2017, they were reissued on vinyl as part of a limited-edition box set, The Christmas Records, making them available for general purchase for the first time.
The goofy tracks capture the band at their most playful, showcasing their warm camaraderie and wit punctuated by cheery cries of their invented Yuletide greeting: “Happy Crimble!” As their fame grew and the pressure became more immense, the Beatles welcomed the chance to blow off steam and follow their creativity into areas beyond their usual pop fare. These low-stakes sessions emboldened them to experiment, sometimes inspiring ideas that would later appear on their better-known work. Even when they’re not pushing the artistic envelope, their eccentric humor, heavily influenced by British radio comedy collective the Goons, remains as funny now as it was half a century earlier.
PHOTO CREDIT: Everett Collection/Mirrorpix
“The Beatles Christmas Record” (1963)
The tale of the first Crimble begins on October 17th, 1963, inside Abbey Road’s Studio Two. Before beginning work on what would become their next single, “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” the Beatles had some Yuletide housekeeping to attend to at the behest of their press officer, Tony Barrow, who suggested that they record a Christmas greeting as a special treat to their rapidly swelling fan club. The band liked the idea enough to acquiesce, but were still content to leave the specifics to a seasoned professional like Barrow, who prepared a script filled with standard expressions of gratitude and seasonal platitudes.
Of course, there was a lot to be thankful for. It had been an extraordinarily year of firsts for the Beatles, during which they released their debut LP, embarked on their first headlining tour and began their unparalleled string of Number One hits. Five days earlier they had sent the United Kingdom into its first throes of advanced Beatlemania with a televised performance on Val Parnell’s Sunday night institution, Sunday Night at the London Palladium, inspiring thousands of fans to swarm the stately West End venue. The hysterics would soon become tiresome, but for now it was fresh, and a genuine tone of naïve bewilderment pervades what would be known as “The Beatles Christmas Record.”
PHOTO CREDIT: Daily Mirror/Mirrorpix/Getty Images
Celestial chimes, the only musical instrument to appear on otherwise a cappella track, herald the band’s arrival as they gather around the microphone to sing a version of “Good King Wenceslas” that’s both hilariously off-key and also hilariously wrong (the snow is not “deep and crisp and crispy” nor is Betty Grable’s name checked). The earnestness and showbiz sincerity of Barrow’s script is immediately undercut as Lennon introduces himself with a cheery, “Hello, this is John speaking with his voice!” Thanking fans for a “really gear year,” he notes the deluge of cards he’d received for his 23rd birthday the week before: “I’d love to reply to everyone personally, but I haven’t enough pens.”
After some irreverent dog barking, he hands it over to McCartney, who echoes the gratitude – save for one thing. Ever since the Beatles expressed their fondness for Jelly Babies (an English cousin of jelly beans) in a recent interview, fans had been shipping them by the crate-load. No longer wishing to be pelted by the confection during live appearances, McCartney takes the opportunity to tell the world, “We’ve gone right off Jelly Babies!” Striking up a faux-German reprise of “Good King Wenceslas” with Lennon, he passes off to Starr, who responds with his own in the style of a hep-cat nightclub crooner. “Thank you, Ringo,” Harrison deadpans as their mock applause dies down. “We’ll phone you!”
The band left it to Barrow to cobble together a workable recording from their banter. “I actually cut the tape recording with scissors, patched the pieces together, and let the discarded bits drop to the floor,” he wrote in his memoir, John, Paul, George, Ringo and Me. “In doing this we destroyed a master tape that at some future date might have raised many thousands of pounds at auction as a unique piece of memorabilia – particularly with all the unused bad language left in!”
Thirty thousand copies of the one-track single were pressed on Lyntone “flexi-vinyl” and sent to fan-club members in the first week of December. In among the jokes and half-songs (like “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Ringo”) heard by anointed “Beatle People,” McCartney delivered a surprisingly prescient mission statement. “Lots of people ask us what we enjoy best – concerts and television or recording. We like doing stage shows, ’cause it’s great to hear an audience enjoying themselves. But the thing we like best – I think so anyway – is going into the recording studio to make new records,” he says. “What we like to hear most is one of our songs taking shape in a recording studio, one of the ones that John and I have written, and then listening to the tapes afterwards to see how it all worked out.” Hours after committing these words to tape, the band would have their first transatlantic hit in the can, elevating the Beatles to a level they could scarcely imagine, and insuring that “The Beatles Christmas Record” would have a sequel”.
“Another Beatles Christmas Record” (1964)
Far from viewing it as a chore, the Beatles had thoroughly enjoyed the experience of recording their first Christmas message and looked forward to a second round. “It was the boys themselves who promoted me into continuing the tradition,” Barrow wrote in his memoir. “‘When are we doing this year’s Crimble record?’ They asked me. They also wanted another script. I knew they needed my words simply as a security measure in case they dried up. In the event they made everything I wrote much funnier by their distinctively zany, Goons-style presentation.”
On October 26th, the band huddled in Studio Two to record five passes through Barrow’s latest message, each one veering off into its own realm of randomness. (Outtakes include a Jimmy Stewart impression, a version of “The 12 Days of Christmas” that consists solely of the item “One plastic bag,” and a hummed rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “Hello Dolly,” the song that had knocked the Beatles off the top spot of the America charts for the first time in 14 weeks that spring.) It was the end of a long day that had begun at 10 o’clock that morning, as the band held the final session for their next LP, Beatles for Sale. Taping nearly 12 hours later, they could be excused for sounding slightly less energetic than they had on their prior Christmas greeting.
PHOTO CREDIT: Daily Mirror/Mirrorpix/Getty Images
The production quality has greatly improved from the previous year, with the sound of marching feet giving way to the opening bars of “Jingle Bells,” backed with piano, harmonica and what sounds like a piece of paper on a comb (a trick recycled during sessions for “Lovely Rita” years later). The band members make no effort to disguise the fact that they’re reading a script, and the supposedly illegible handwriting becomes a running gag. “We hope you have enjoyed listening to the records as much as we have enjoyed melting them,” says McCartney before they all break into peals of laughter. “No, no that’s wrong. Making them!”
Lennon adopts his traditional role as the witty slinger of withering one-liners. “Don’t know where we’d be without you, really,” McCartney graciously tells fans. “The Army, perhaps,” Lennon lobs back. After thanking fans for seeing A Hard Day’s Night, Harrison reveals that their next film will be in color. “Green,” Lennon helpfully adds. In addition to plugging his upcoming book, A Spaniard in the Works – “It’s the usual rubbish, but it won’t cost much” – he manages to sneak in a sly naughty word with “Beatle peedles,” German slang for male genitalia. Its close proximity to the band’s name was the source of great amusement during their club days in Hamburg.
For the fadeout, they sing a loose version of the Irish standard “Can You Wash Your Father’s Shirt.” This soon devolves into demented shouts of “Christmas,” predating Monty Python’s brainless “Gumby” character by half a decade”.
“Christmas Time Is Here Again!” (1967)
The Beatles hold up sandwich boards in different languages (English, French, German, Spanish and Russian) during the Our World satellite broadcast of the song 'All You Need is Love' from Abbey Road Studios in London, UK, 24th June 1967. From left to right, Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney, John Lennon and George Harrison. (Photo by Evening Standard/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
Now that the band had mastered their studio domain, the Beatles’ 1967 seasonal message – wrapped in a Sgt. Pepper–like collage of vintage photos created by Lennon and Starr – would be the apex of their Christmas recordings. Recorded back at Abbey Road’s Studio Two on November 28th during a nine-hour marathon session, “Christmas Time Is Here Again!” expands on the sketches of the previous year by adding the only performance among the Beatles’ holiday recordings that could safely be categorized as a proper “Christmas song.” The tune is little more than a holiday mantra, but the Beatles sell it through their full-throated commitment and a clever arrangement reminiscent of their new single, “Hello, Goodbye.” Lennon, ever fond of unusual count-ins (he can be heard intoning “Sugar plum fairy, sugar plum fairy” on early takes of “A Day in the Life”), introduces the song with a hastily exhaled “Interplanetary remix, take 444!” before a lushly multi-tracked chorus of Beatle voices remind listeners that Christmas time is indeed here again.
The plot, scripted by the band the day before, makes about as much sense as “Everywhere It’s Christmas.” The story begins with the Beatles portraying a fictitious group called the Ravellers, on a quest to audition for the BBC. Once they’ve made it past the gatekeeper (played by their friend Victor Spinetti, who had appeared in A Hard Day’s Night, Help! and the yet-to-be-released Magical Mystery Tour) they perform a tap-dance in the “fluffy rehearsal room.” From there it all becomes a bit difficult to follow as the record fades into a fever dream of fractured broadcast clichés including jingles (“Wonderlust for your trousers!”), a noir radio drama called Theater Hour and a game show where the grand prize is a trip to Denver and automatic appointment to “independent candidate for Paddington.” The Ravellers, having apparently passed the audition, return to croon a tune about jam jars across the airwaves for the benefit of injured woman in Blackpool.
A haze of maniacal echo-drenched laughter gives way to the regal voice of George Martin, addressing fans for the first time on the disc. “They’d like to thank you for a wonderful year,” he says with the tone of a kindly but exasperated schoolteacher, before the students repeat his words with mock reverence. Lennon signs off with a Goonish original poem, a sort of lonely Christmas “Jabberwocky” delivered in a thick Scottish brogue over the sound of a wintery gale. “When the beasty brangom button to the heather and little inn,” he says while “Auld Lang Syne” plays softly. “And be strattened oot in ma-tether to yer arms once back again. Och away, ye bonnie.” So ends the Beatles’ last documented recording of their extraordinary year. It would also be the final Christmas disc recorded together by the group as a unit”.
“The Beatles’ Seventh Christmas Record: Happy Christmas 1969”
The Beatles existed in name only by the Christmas of 1969, after Lennon famously told his compatriots in September that he wanted “a divorce.” But for fear of disrupting upcoming business deals, as well as a genuine sense of confusion, the band decide to keep any talk of a breakup strictly among themselves. To maintain a sense of normalcy, they dutifully set about recording pieces for yet another Christmas record, once more to be assembled by Everett.
Most of the Beatles opted to tape their pieces in the comfort of their own homes. Ono, who had just contributed anonymous backing piano the previous year, introduces her now-husband as they stroll through the grounds of Tittenhurst Park, their Ascot estate where the final Beatles’ photo session had taken place on August 22nd. Together they stage a jokey interview, ranging from their favorite foods to their place in the decade to come. “I think it’ll be a quite a peaceful Seventies … [peace] and freedom,” Ono opines. As the autumn leaves crunch underfoot, Lennon can’t help but belt “deep and crisp and even” – the line from “Good King Wenceslas” he gleefully butchered on the band’s first Christmas record. Once a fresh 23-year-old having a laugh with his mates, he’s now an adult superstar, roaming his palatial estate with his wife, preaching peace to the globe. Even now, the monumental six-year leap remains difficult to comprehend.
McCartney performs another inviting acoustic original, this one titled “This Is to Wish You.” Music will remain his preferred method for bringing peace to those who endured the tumultuous decade he had helped to shape – as well soothe his own soul during the uncertain time. Starr sings a song of his own, a goofy ad-libbed tune, and manages to work in a plug for his new film, The Magic Christian with Peter Sellers, whose radio work with The Goon Show can be felt in each of the Beatles’ Christmas discs. Harrison, however, remains unwilling to submit to this last vestige of mop-toppery. His contribution, a single line uttered at the London offices of Apple Records, runs six seconds long.
Among recordings of Christmas choirs and pipe organs pulled from the tape vault, Everett utilized another preexisting piece of music: “The End” from the Beatles’ swan song, Abbey Road. Perhaps even he had an inkling that this would be the last offering of its kind from the group. He ensures that the concluding sound heard on what would prove to be the final Beatles Christmas record is that of laughter, a fitting reminder of the inherent good humor that runs throughout the band’s works. Even to the bitter end, the Beatles could be counted on to raise a smile”.
Even if these Christmas records were a way to appease fans who would send thousands of letters, I think they grew into something more. It was a personal touch from a band who were often in the middle of recording an albums – and would do these Christmas skits and messages in the middle. The cognitive dissonance of going from a conventional studio album song to being in the festive setting must have been strange! The first one or two Christmas records sounded a little forced and too scripted. You can hear more of the band’s personalities in the subsequent ones. John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr added something magical and distinct to these annual stocking fillers. I am keen to see them reissued and made available on a vinyl set or C.D.s. It is a fascinating chapter in the career of the greatest and most important band ever. As we are heading towards December, I was thinking about Christmas and the fact that many Beatles fans might not know about the Beatles records. As the first one was issued on 6th December, 1963, I wanted to mark its sixtieth anniversary. I wonder how Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr feel about them now (and whether they have any clear memories and recollections). They are quite random and scattershot at times, yet they are all very worthy and interesting. A holiday gift for the fans who gave the band so much love and support, I still get charmed and won over when listening to them now! They are irresistible and, at times, wonderfully engrossing. These short and characterful records from The Beatles were…
WONDERFUL Christmas baubles!