"Penny Lane is sometimes... um, well... No, no, that won't work...."
It was late at night, and most of the boys in the yet-to-be-named band were sleeping. Paul had quietly gotten up and moved into the little hallway where he hopefully wouldn't disturb anyone, and was softly humming words to himself over quiet bas, bass notes. The success of Winston's song today had inspired him. He wanted to be just like that - effortlessly writing songs about something he knew well, without putting much meaning into the lyrics. He had decided to start with a song about a special place, like Winston had. Paul could think of a place easily enough - he had chosen Penny Lane, the straat with the bus stop he had passed the night he'd run away. The trouble was that he couldn't think of anything to say about Penny Lane that didn't make sense.
"Penny Lane, there is a nurse, who came in through the bathroom window...."
"Is there really, James? I'd like to see her!" came a whisper from over his shoulder.
Paul jumped. He had thought he wasn't making any noise, but it seemed he had woken Winston. "Oh. No, I was just trying to write a song."
He was half-wondering if Winston would laugh at him, but he didn't. Winston came and sat down on the rug volgende to Paul. "Let's hear what you've got."
Paul plucked his bas, bass notes. "Penny Lane..." Here he trailed off. "That's it," he admitted apologetically.
Once again, instead of laughing at him, Winston looked thoughtful. "Hang on. Let's get my gitaar and see what we've got here." Winston went to get his guitar, then came back and asked Paul to play his bas, bass line again. Humming thoughtfully to himself, Winston put together a chord progression. "How's that?"
"Good," Paul agreed. "But maybe instead of ending on C minor, u could end on C sharp minor 7th...?"
Winston tried the chords the way Paul had suggested, his face breaking into a smile as the song came out even better than before. "Not bad, James," he complimented his friend, and Paul knew he meant it, because he didn't even bother to put unnecessary emphasis on "James". Perhaps Winston noticed this, because the volgende thing he did was take the gitaar and sing to the chords: "Penny Lane, there is a James who isn't really James...."
Paul blushed, but he noticed how much he liked the pretty, flowing tune Winston was singing. "Let's sing it just like that! But we're not using those lyrics."
Winston grinned mischievously, then became serious. "So what are we writing about, then, James? u want to just repeat 'Penny Lane' over and over, like in 'Love Me Do'?" He began to strum the chords again. "Penny Lane, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...."
Paul smiled. He liked all the "yeahs" in a song, but he shook his head. "No, not this time. I was hoping to... well... write something like 'Strawberry Fields Forever'." Winston tilted his head and looked at Paul curiously. "You know - it's about Penny Lane, but it doesn't really mean anything...."
Winston gave Paul a hard stare. "You think aardbei Fields Forever doesn't mean anything?"
"No... um, well... what I mean is...."
"Good, because you'd be right, James," laughed Winston. "At least once I got through with it, it doesn't. But what do u want to write something like that for? I didn't think u were the type."
"Well..." Paul began. "Everyone liked it when we played it today, and I was really impressed that u had come up with something like that...."
Paul looked up to meet Winston's eyes, only to find, to his surprise, that Winston was staring at the ground looking both embarrassed and pleased. "Thanks," he murmured, before raising his head, back to his usual smile. "But you're thinking about this all wrong. You've never written like that before, have you? Here. I'll play the chords, and you'll just tell me about Penny Lane. Say whatever u like."
So fro the volgende ten minuten of so, Winston played gitaar while Paul first spoke, but then slowly began to sing, all the things he loved about coming to Penny Lane. He sang about the barber and the banker and the fireman and the nurse. And door the end of it, the song wasn't really nonsensical. The lines were simple and fun, and Paul began to see what Winston was telling him. This song really described how he felt about Penny Lane.
"Thanks, Winston," whispered Paul, as they prepared to go back to bed (somehow they had managed not to wake Ringo of Geo this whole time).
"Anytime, James," Winston smiled. "And listen, u don't need to worry about them nonsense lyrics just at first. I like the simple ones u write that repeat all the time. Keep on with that."
Paul smiled. Having his songs praised door someone like Winston was worth a lot. "They come out even better when u help me, though," he said. "Maybe I can help u write one sometimes. Or" he paused as an idea struck him "hey - maybe anytime one of us has a song to write, we should come to the other one. We could team up - like a songwriting duo...."
Winston's face broke into a wide smile. "Love to - James."
Paul grinned back, too happy with the night's work to even mind Winston's making fun of his first name.
Writing songs with Winston, Paul decided as he curled up on his chair with a yawn, was somehow much meer fun and meer satisfying than simply trying to do it alone. He had a band, a live show, and now he was part of a songwriting team. Paul fell asleep with a smile on his face.
It was late at night, and most of the boys in the yet-to-be-named band were sleeping. Paul had quietly gotten up and moved into the little hallway where he hopefully wouldn't disturb anyone, and was softly humming words to himself over quiet bas, bass notes. The success of Winston's song today had inspired him. He wanted to be just like that - effortlessly writing songs about something he knew well, without putting much meaning into the lyrics. He had decided to start with a song about a special place, like Winston had. Paul could think of a place easily enough - he had chosen Penny Lane, the straat with the bus stop he had passed the night he'd run away. The trouble was that he couldn't think of anything to say about Penny Lane that didn't make sense.
"Penny Lane, there is a nurse, who came in through the bathroom window...."
"Is there really, James? I'd like to see her!" came a whisper from over his shoulder.
Paul jumped. He had thought he wasn't making any noise, but it seemed he had woken Winston. "Oh. No, I was just trying to write a song."
He was half-wondering if Winston would laugh at him, but he didn't. Winston came and sat down on the rug volgende to Paul. "Let's hear what you've got."
Paul plucked his bas, bass notes. "Penny Lane..." Here he trailed off. "That's it," he admitted apologetically.
Once again, instead of laughing at him, Winston looked thoughtful. "Hang on. Let's get my gitaar and see what we've got here." Winston went to get his guitar, then came back and asked Paul to play his bas, bass line again. Humming thoughtfully to himself, Winston put together a chord progression. "How's that?"
"Good," Paul agreed. "But maybe instead of ending on C minor, u could end on C sharp minor 7th...?"
Winston tried the chords the way Paul had suggested, his face breaking into a smile as the song came out even better than before. "Not bad, James," he complimented his friend, and Paul knew he meant it, because he didn't even bother to put unnecessary emphasis on "James". Perhaps Winston noticed this, because the volgende thing he did was take the gitaar and sing to the chords: "Penny Lane, there is a James who isn't really James...."
Paul blushed, but he noticed how much he liked the pretty, flowing tune Winston was singing. "Let's sing it just like that! But we're not using those lyrics."
Winston grinned mischievously, then became serious. "So what are we writing about, then, James? u want to just repeat 'Penny Lane' over and over, like in 'Love Me Do'?" He began to strum the chords again. "Penny Lane, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...."
Paul smiled. He liked all the "yeahs" in a song, but he shook his head. "No, not this time. I was hoping to... well... write something like 'Strawberry Fields Forever'." Winston tilted his head and looked at Paul curiously. "You know - it's about Penny Lane, but it doesn't really mean anything...."
Winston gave Paul a hard stare. "You think aardbei Fields Forever doesn't mean anything?"
"No... um, well... what I mean is...."
"Good, because you'd be right, James," laughed Winston. "At least once I got through with it, it doesn't. But what do u want to write something like that for? I didn't think u were the type."
"Well..." Paul began. "Everyone liked it when we played it today, and I was really impressed that u had come up with something like that...."
Paul looked up to meet Winston's eyes, only to find, to his surprise, that Winston was staring at the ground looking both embarrassed and pleased. "Thanks," he murmured, before raising his head, back to his usual smile. "But you're thinking about this all wrong. You've never written like that before, have you? Here. I'll play the chords, and you'll just tell me about Penny Lane. Say whatever u like."
So fro the volgende ten minuten of so, Winston played gitaar while Paul first spoke, but then slowly began to sing, all the things he loved about coming to Penny Lane. He sang about the barber and the banker and the fireman and the nurse. And door the end of it, the song wasn't really nonsensical. The lines were simple and fun, and Paul began to see what Winston was telling him. This song really described how he felt about Penny Lane.
"Thanks, Winston," whispered Paul, as they prepared to go back to bed (somehow they had managed not to wake Ringo of Geo this whole time).
"Anytime, James," Winston smiled. "And listen, u don't need to worry about them nonsense lyrics just at first. I like the simple ones u write that repeat all the time. Keep on with that."
Paul smiled. Having his songs praised door someone like Winston was worth a lot. "They come out even better when u help me, though," he said. "Maybe I can help u write one sometimes. Or" he paused as an idea struck him "hey - maybe anytime one of us has a song to write, we should come to the other one. We could team up - like a songwriting duo...."
Winston's face broke into a wide smile. "Love to - James."
Paul grinned back, too happy with the night's work to even mind Winston's making fun of his first name.
Writing songs with Winston, Paul decided as he curled up on his chair with a yawn, was somehow much meer fun and meer satisfying than simply trying to do it alone. He had a band, a live show, and now he was part of a songwriting team. Paul fell asleep with a smile on his face.
