A take on Lennon/McCartney
Note: This post started as a reply to @sweating-cobwebs recent post on the valuable information we can take from the full quote regarding Paul’s ‘imovable heterosexuality’, but it completely turned into a stream of consciousness type thing and I thought better not to clog the original post with my rambling. So, to the interested parties, buckle up! Also, I preemptively apologize for its meandering quality.
I’ve only started the adventure of getting acknowledged with the history of the Beatles this last September. Before that I only knew a couple of songs, the band members names and that John Lennon had been murdered by a fan somewhere in the faraway past. So I came into this pretty much with a clean slate in terms of pre-established conceptions or whatever mainstream opinions about the band’s dynamics.
But I can also say that the Lennon/McCartney partnership was pretty much a pull, something that fascinated and interested me from the moment I started listening to Beatles music on YouTube and came across ‘We Can Work It Out’. There was just such a wonderful companionship there, it made me want to know more! I was far from guessing the mammoth of a history between those two and the band in general.
On Tumblr, I came across posts with quotes about them, some without a source and that proved false, but with a little bit of digging you could just find the most fascinating statements. Blogs like the wonderful @amoralto where crucial in giving me trustworthy and interesting information, with little to no personal bias on the posts themselves.
And so, clean of all other narratives, it was quite clear to me that John Lennon was a very emotionally unstable man, who tried to protect all this rawness and easily wounded heart by attacking first. He was unbelievably fragile and had a tendency to want to put himself in the care of other people, to absolve himself of the responsibility of managing himself.
But simultaneously, he bloated his ego, to try and run away from his own crippling insecurity, and the crash between one state and the other lead him to bitter rages and depressed states. And because of that ego, that pride (which again reflected not self-esteem but lack of it), and the fear of not being loved enough and get left behind, he was also extremely jealous* and rebelled against the authority he craved, for the power it would have to hurt him.
(*In terms of the jealousy, I always saw it again as an extent of his own fear of abandonment; in the terms of 'if he is that much better than me, then he doesn’t need me and can leave at any time.’)
So, based on all John’s quotes, it was clear he was extremely vulnerable and exposed emotionally to whatever the people he decided to latch on to did. It was quite a (frustrating) realisation when I became aware that a lot of people had the complete opposite idea, that he was this confident guy (maybe only on the outside) and the domineering leader of this group.
Again, I think he only tried to publicly (and perhaps in his head) maintain this position as a matter of bravado and to keep a relevant position (so that people don’t get the idea of just leaving him behind). But I don’t see this as a natural state for him… Yes, he was charismatic and could rally people around him but in terms of making decisions, he seemed to like to hand over the reins to someone else.
Paul, on the other hand, I had some difficulty figuring out. But from what I was seeing he wasn’t the Cute one either.
He always seemed harder than any of the others, much more in control of himself. Consequentially, he was also in a position to be in more control of the people and circumstances around them. So I also couldn’t understand how he is sometimes painted as the pining, helpless one.
But things are never that simple, because I see Paul’s own need to have a strong hold on his emotions very much like his own armour, designed to hide and protect his own vulnerabilities (often, even from himself). The soft, charming and easygoing exterior is the ultimate manifestations of these two layers.
First, it serves to conceal that there even is a hard underside in the first place, and by masking the armour itself, people don’t question what’s within the armour.
Secondly, the diplomatic and charming attitude helps him fulfil his need to manage the people and circumstances around him, in a way that people don’t realise they’re being nudged and so egos aren’t hurt.
But the last thing we mustn’t forget is that Paul isn’t pleasant and affable to the people around him solely as a means to an end, to get what he wants. He sure learned to use it to his advantage, but he isn’t just some manipulating sociopath. In the end, he genuinely likes to be liked. Making people happy, loving them, and getting more love in return helps appease the fears and needs he keeps deep within him and fights to ignore.
They were incredibly similar in their core. That must have been one of the factors that brought them together like that. But whereas John seemingly only had ‘two layers’ (hard covering soft), leaving him much more exposed and volatile, Paul’s different approach at protecting his soft inside by covering it thickly and pretend it doesn’t exist (soft covering hard covering soft), made them different in a lot of interesting ways.
And if these personalities helped them be stronger together and take advantage of each other’s strong points, the fear within them became at some point so great that it rippled through everything else and threw the dynamic out of balance. Now, the exacerbation of their own characteristics made them out of sync and just served to fracture them further.
John’s bite and acerbic wit were like a wall of thorns, a perfect filter that guaranteed that if people stuck around him and went through all that just to get to him, then maybe they were strong and loved him enough that he was ‘safe’ in getting attached. And once he latched he just held tightly and completely, with everything he had. Here was someone that could fill the void within him, someone that could make him whole and better.
But unfortunately, that hole could only ever be filled with self-love, because every other love he received would be tainted by fear: ‘I’m not worth loving, so this love I’m getting mustn’t be love at all; or if it is, they are never as desperately dependent on me as I am on them, and so they could leave with their love at any moment and I’d be left alone and empty again. And who could blame them? I’d abandon myself too if I could.’
So, regardless of how much love and affection he received, this would always be doubted, never believing it was there at all. I think it must have been the trauma of being abandoned by both his parents as a three-year-old that planted that seed of doubt in his mind: ‘If my own parents, who should love me unconditionally, don’t love me, then there is nothing in me to love at all.’ This lack of love for himself created a void within him that needs filling, but because of the fear itself, it could never be completed by nothing external. But at the same time, he expected it to come from out there because it sure wasn’t coming from himself.
And so we have this frustratingly insatiable craving and people he hopes can fill it, and who he ultimately blows of, raging because of the pain, when it feels as though they aren’t trying or about to give up on him. (Because I don’t think he quite realized that nobody but him could fill it, otherwise he might have reached some kind of catharsis.)
We can see this happening clearly in his relationship with Paul. ‘Here is this incredibly talented person, who despite being quite extraordinary still sticks around with me and takes up with all my bullshit. I bet we could be great together, that he could complete me and make me better and worth something in the whole of us both. I could just surrender in this common entity of JohnandPaul and he could take care of us both.’ But at the same time: ‘Here is this incredibly talented person, who by being quite extraordinary, has no reason to still stick around with me and take up with all my bullshit. I bet he doesn’t need/love me as much as I need/love him, and so he could leave this common entity of JohnandPaul at any moment. Maybe I need to keep testing the truthfulness of his commitment by making him jealous and pushing him away. If he truly loves me he will fight back through the wall of thorns and continue to stick around and take up with my bullshit.’
On the other side, we have Paul, who I believe was quite taken with this incredibly personality that was John Lennon, and once he fought through the wall of thorns and found the hurt, scared and lonely little boy inside he couldn’t help himself than love him even more. Because he too was a hurt lonely boy. ‘Here is this incredibly talented person that loves music as much as I do, and who despite being quite extraordinary still sticks around with me. I bet we could be great together!’
And that’s the crucial difference. Paul loved himself already when he met John. He was quite sure, given his childhood, that he was inherently someone worthy of it. People always recount him as a rather confident kid. Of course, he still craved the appreciation of those around him. He still loved to be loved, by strangers but especially by people he loved himself. But it wasn’t as desperately fundamental a need as John’s was, and so, at least in the beginning, the doubt of his own self-worth didn’t cloud what he was receiving from others.
But he wasn’t completely secure in his relationship with John either. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have all those jealous episodes or alternatively doubted and tried to re-establish his position as The Best Mate. The fact that both were that possessive of the other shows how afraid of losing the relationship and doubt over their true importance in the other’s eyes belied their dynamic. There was just too much fear…
And while I see John as somehow more aware of how much he needed Paul, and thus his fear steemed directly from that need being unmet if Paul left, I think the latter, in his urge not to be controlled by his emotions but instead being the one on command, was also afraid of how vulnerable his own attachment to John made him.
So, on the one hand, we have Paul, trying to strike a balance and find the ideal proximity between the two. Not too far, because he does love him and like to spend time with him, and in some way felt he needed him too. But not that close, because then he risked both losing his own identity and freedom in the conjoined name of Lennon/McCartney and, maybe, having to face the true depth of his feelings and the strength of his attachment. There’s also the assumptions that could have been made regarding their relationship, and Paul, with his rigid upbringing and demeanour (coupled perhaps with a bit of defensiveness that rose from his more feminine looks), always stroke me as a ‘no homo’ kind of guy.
On the other hand, we have John’s rollercoaster strategy of alternatively holding Paul as close as possible, smushing them together to the point of being able to disappear into them, and at other times throwing him some thorny vines, playing ‘Mind Games’ to force Paul to prove his devotion, to fight for him.
And in the beginning, Paul played them, literally fighting for John’s attention. Maybe, in his youth, he hadn’t developed quite a good enough grip on his emotions yet, hence the quite obvious outwards expressions of jealousy with Stuart. Or maybe he felt that while it was appropriate to compete for his best friend against another male friend, coming between John and a female love interest would raise more eyebrows.
Either way, as he got older, Paul stopped responding so directly to John’s provocations (maybe not to give him the satisfaction of seeing how he unsettled him) and started reposting in more subtle digs, such as with the composing of ‘Eleanor Rigby’. Unfortunate for John, as he needed to get a clear reaction out of Paul to make sure that he still cared.
The rising tensions concerning one of the great landmarks in their relationship, the LSD usage, came to a breaking point once Paul finally relented and agreed to drop acid with John. And for a second, everything was perfect.
Paul and Mal Evans came to stay with us somewhere in the late spring of 1967. (…) Paul and Mal, this time, were full of tales of this here LSD and what it could do. Unrecognisable psyches on familiar heads and shoulders: the voice was Paul’s but the tone was … God’s? Paul said he and John had had 'this fantastic thing’; which really wasn’t very informative, so I pressed him to flesh it out. 'Incredible, really, just locked into each other’s eyes … Like, just staring and then saying, “I know, man” and then laughing … And it was great , you know.’ … Realising he wasn’t getting through , Paul said, 'You’ll just have to try it.
- Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift, 1983.
I think at that moment they became as close emotionally as they’d ever been. But I think that distance was out of Paul’s previously defined comfort zone. And like two atoms coming too near, the instability rose and the forces of repulsion overpowered the forces of attraction.
I don’t think John was aware of Paul’s discomfort. On those months before their stay in Rishikesh, he seemed to be on cloud nine!
But then something happened in India. Maybe John wanted even more proximity (he was, after all, hoping to create a Beatle paradise on some Greek Island). Perhaps Paul reached a breaking-point all on his own. Either way, whatever may have happened, for whatever reasons, Paul rejected John in some way, leaving the camp soon after and leaving a humiliated and broken-hearted John behind.
People around them noticed the raised tension upon their return:
Our first night back in the studio began, as usual, with small talk and catching up. “So how was India?” I asked.
“India was okay, I guess… apart from that nasty little Maharishi,” John replied, venomously.
Harrison looked deflated, as if it were a conversation they’d had many times before. With a deep sigh, he tried to calm his agitated bandmate.
“Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad,” he interjected, earning a withering glance. Lennon’s bitterness and anger seemed almost palpable.
Ringo tried deflecting things with a little humor. “It reminded me of a Butlins holiday camp, only the bloody food wasn’t as good,” he said with a wink.
I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other.
I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed. They were searching for something, but they didn’t know quite what it was; they had journeyed to India looking for answers, and they were disappointed that they hadn’t found them there… but it seemed to me that they didn’t even know the questions.
- Geoff Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere. (2005)
I see John come to his own breaking point on the four-day trip he made with Paul for the promotion of Apple. Once he saw Linda, or Paul and Linda together, he knew he had to change strategies. Three days after their return from New York, John invites Yoko Ono to his house, where he takes LSD with her, records ‘Two Virgins’ and they have sex at the end of the night.
And though Paul’s reaction was somehow hostile in the beginning, by the ‘Get Back’ sessions we can clearly witness his more diplomatic tone. Maybe he truly was being more mature and accepting and respecting John’s choice. Or perhaps he felt like he had caused this himself, and so had no right to try and gain back his chance. But again, Paul’s lack of engagement in the ‘Mind Game’ of jealousy, even after John shoved Yoko in his face any way he could (including making him listen to a tape of them having sex), only seemed to prove to John how little Paul had ever cared for him, making him want to disappear into Yoko even more.
But I think Paul was indeed begging for a second chance, with ‘Oh! Darling’ and ‘The Long and Winding Road’ clear examples of this. Now, whether he was ready to give in to the level of closeness John wanted (but the latter didn’t take him back), or rather, he just wanted things to go back to the safe comfortable level of intimacy they shared before, I’m not really sure. But I have a hunch that it would’ve probably been the latter.
I think the tragic part of it is, the level of closeness John needed and the one Paul felt comfortable with didn’t match up, even when Paul spent the seventies trying to build the bridges necessary to bring them back together. Maybe John made this so hard because he was still terrified of being hurt again. Maybe he had wisely realized that Paul wasn’t willing to give him the intimacy he craved.
But I think, throughout it all, we have heartbreak on both ends. John reveals the depth of his emotions by the magnitude of his hurt, that translated in an irrational rage and absolutely cruel lashing against his former partner, that unfortunately clouds many people’s opinions on Paul’s talent as a musician and songwriter to this day, despite Lennon having tried to swallow a lot of things back not even a year after the break-up. But painting their history in Ugliness made for a better story…
The depth of Paul’s attachment is revealed in his despair at the loss of the band and his closest friendship. How much John meant to him shows in the way all his attacks landed, wounding Paul deeply, completely shattering his self-esteem, the very same thing that fundamentally separated him from Lennon in the first place. To this day, you still can see Paul doubting his worth and John’s true opinion on him, or how much he meant to him.
Funnily enough (not funny at all, actually), it seems that in the brutal break-up, John managed to break Paul too and instil in him the same insecurities that had tormented him all his life.
Theirs is a story of how they succumbed to their own fears and let them destroy something beautiful. John, so scared to lose him that he kept testing how strong Paul was holding back, managed to totally push him away. Paul, afraid that if he got too close to John he would end up hurt, managed to push him away too, and get terribly hurt in the process.
I think with John’s death, the notion that he had lost him for good hit Paul so monumentally, that he couldn’t quite deal with the guilt and the regret at the missed opportunities for some time. Only after did we see him open up and dare to admit to himself and to others how much John had meant to him. It’s quite tragic that he appeared to only come to terms with how much he loved John, and how maybe he was willing after all to be as close as John wanted/needed after the latter was gone and there was nothing to be done…
I must admit it’s a very sad story, but incredibly beautiful nonetheless, and certainly worth remembering.
Closing Remarks: You must have noticed how I discuss their connection solely on the terms of emotional closeness. I do this because I’m still not certain how they expressed their immense love in terms of physical intimacy. Despite not seeing this detail as particularly relevant to the understanding of the depth of feeling they had for each other, it is something that society as a whole values quite a bit, and thus, it has the power to have deeply impacted their choices, based on the outside pressures and stigma that existed.
At this point, John Lennon’s bisexuality is almost incontestable, and I believe he clearly confirmed and identified as such during his lifetime. I also believe that amidst all his need for emotional and mental intimacy, sharing physical affection with Paul was just another desired facet, as he himself expressed rather obviously in one of my favourite quotes from him:
It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?
John Lennon, interview w/ Sandra Shevey. (Mid-June?, 1972)
Paul, on the other hand, remains, as usual, the more mysterious one. I previously answered an ask where I touch upon this, but basically, I haven’t definitely made up my mind if he truly lacked a sexual attraction towards John or if, like a lot of things within himself, he completely denied and repressed those feelings for the longest times. But from what I gathered from the curious slips and comments he lets on, I tend to fall on the latter option.
But whether Paul himself felt physically attracted to John or not, doesn’t feel quite as important as how he would feel if other people thought he liked men. Because I think his fear of being thought of as queer, much as he insists he is not homophobic (and maybe he didn’t have problems with other people being gay, but to call yourself that would be entirely different), played a very crucial role in making Paul try and keep John more at arm’s length. (But maybe Paul’s relationship with homosexuality and physical affection can be better explored later, in another post.)
For now, this is a rather messy take on their relationship, and I would love to hear your opinions on the matters addressed here! But I’m just incredibly grateful if you bothered reading until here!
