Interview for New Musical Express (NME)

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THE Beatles met the Press — a very rare occurrence these days — after a showing of the Apple-presented, King Features-produced full-length cartoon-film, “Yellow Submarine,” which I found colourful, sometimes ingenious, but overall rather boring.

One Beatle was missing, John Lennon, whose yen these days is even more Eastern than India. So Paul (in pale mauve jacket, light trousers, pinky shirt, summery tie — quite the best dressed), George and Ringo posed beside a cardboard effigy of John, Paul took up a position in front and was full of life. Ringo looked pleasant and George, with more hair than ever, looked thoughtful.

After the pictures, I was able to corner George, who told me that the “Yellow Submarine” cartoon depiction of the Beatles “isn’t us.”

“There’s no true image of us. You Press people have given us an image which isn’t us either.”

George, in dark suit and yellow frilled shirt, said they had changed a lot (I noticed all three were much more sober and quiet and to the point now) and were half businessmen, half recording artists.

“It appears we are doing less, but we’re doing more, but the public don’t see it. When we toured we were seen on stages and getting on and off aeroplanes. Now we do our work in private, in offices and studios.

“I have written ten songs for the new LP. We have about 40 in all and we don’t know yet which ones we’ll use. We hope to do the LP quicker.”

I remarked that now that George was clean shaven we saw more of his face than we had for a long time. He looked younger. How did it feel to be so bare?

“Great. If I cut my hair off more I’d look younger still and maybe I could join the Small Faces,” joked George.

Ringo, in a red-with-white-dots shirt and dark suit and still sporting a small moustache, told me that “Yellow Submarine” was a thing for the children. Like George he hadn’t seen the whole film through

“Kids are the most important people in the world today. They are the future,” he said. “We do things for children. The cartoons illustrate some of our songs, that’s all.”

I asked him what he thought of the actors who had spoken their voices.

“I thought they all sounded like me — and we all have very different voices, y’know. It’s not just a Liverpool accent.”

Ringo told me he had already recorded his song for the next album.

“It has two titles, so I can’t say what it will be called yet.”

This was a tactful way of saying he can’t give out the title yet.

Ringo told me he had given up his building business because “nobody bought houses where we put them up!” And he had given up meditation because he couldn’t find the time for it, except in the car.

“When I’m driving I sometimes close my eyes and meditate,” he drawled.

Wasn’t that dangerous, I asked.

“Oh my chauffeur drives me,” he quickly added, recalling one of the few times he had taken over with a “Move over son” and got nicked for speeding.

“The speed cop didn’t know me, I’m sure. Richard Starkey is the name on my licence. I got done for £8. So ‘son’ drives me now,” he concluded.

As always Paul had plenty to say. He was pleased with the progress of the LP but admitted:

“We get new ideas every day, but I hope it will be made quicker than the ‘Pepper’ album.”

They want it out long before the ‘Yellow Submarine’ LP comes out at Christmas, with four rather inconsequential songs specially written for the film.

“We are family grocers,” Paul went on. “You want yoghurt, we give you it. You want cornflakes, we have that too. Mums and dads can’t take some of our album stuff, so we make it simple for them on singles,” he told me.

I asked him about Mary Hopkin, the singer from Wales whom he has signed and who has been on Hughie Green’s “Opportunity Knocks.”

“She sings too much like Joan Baez. We’ll alter that. And get some good songs for her. No, I won’t write them. There are plenty of good old ones. Yes, she’ll be big. We’ve got to be positive about that.“

Speaking about himself — and he was looking very cheerful — he said “I am all right but it could be better.” But he got angry when he heard “a worrying cat, a German, on TV, ranting about all kids taking drugs.” He refuted the idea that all the kids did this and said such statements made him see red.

He also thought that rock and current pop music was more serious than people think it is. He said that so called classical music, when he listened to it, hadn’t got all that much to it. “Suddenly we realise we can do it, too,” he concluded.

And his parting shot was that Dylan’s lyrics have infinitely more worthwhile poetry about them than the nauseating words of songs that Sinatra sings. “I used to think they were great, but now they are so much ——.” And he used a word more in common use in France than here.