There are
only a few songs that give me “the shakes,” whose melodies or riffs literally
cause me to involuntarily shiver in delight. These songs demand my complete
attention when I listen to them, forcing their way to the forefront of my
consciousness and remaining there from the first tone to the last. Most of the
tunes on that short list have some emotional or nostalgic connection to my life,
and it is likely that those “shakes” are derived from a younger self internally
knocking to the beat of the tune. But on the rare occasion, a song I’ve never
given a second thought to will just pop up and slap me in the face. One such
song is “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” by The Beatles, which over the past two
months has repeatedly emerged from the ether, demanding to be heard, and I find
that I cannot help but heed its call.
Though I’d
been aware of the song for years, the tolling guitars and punchy bass that
define “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” hadn’t really caught my attention until
recently, when the song insisted on appearing in my shuffle almost daily. The
thundering 6/8 section that is the centerpiece marches like a funeral
procession; the strings meld into one dark portrait of a chord progression that
defines the “heavy” in the song’s title. Betwixt these stomping choruses is
inserted a gentle grooving verse, which strolls along a blues feel before
stomping into Paul McCartney’s aggressive bassline. The band alternates between
soft and loud, relaxed and heavy, until John Lennon’s final, throat-cracking
scream of “Yeah!” drives the band into the perpetual loop of the main theme,
continually adding noise and insanity before abruptly cutting off, denying the
listener any semblance of resolve or finality.
After repeatedly
hearing it, I am baffled as to how I hadn’t noticed sooner the sheer force of
this tune. With “I Want You (She’s So Heavy),” the band wrecks of every
definition the public has since attempted to mold over them, making it everything
The Beatles are usually not. The most immediate difference lies in the instrumentation;
the rampant elements of freeform jazz stand as the focus of the song, while the
fourteen words that form the lyrics feel more like another instrument than any
language at all. Secondly, this tune is damn long, with the original master
reaching just over 8 minutes.[1] But the most blatant difference
is how unrepentantly dark it is, embodying a feeling that, at the time, music
had yet to really touch upon. There is a remarkable contrast between the A and
B sections, a haunting trudge placed against a bluesy jaunt, and the seamless
way they slip into one another is almost disturbing.
The shadow
leaking from between the notes in this song douses the lyrics as well. Written
by John Lennon about his love for Yoko Ono,[2] the song’s minimal lyrics
somehow manage to grasp the entire spectrum inherent in the idea of love. His
simple statement of “I want you / I want you so bad / It’s driving me mad” is
simultaneously romantic, sexual, and creepy—the words of a husband, a lover,
and a stalker all at once. And as for the line “she’s so heavy,” Lennon cryptically
told Rolling Stone: “When you're drowning, you don't say, 'I would be
incredibly pleased if someone would have the foresight to notice me drowning
and come and help me.' You just scream."[3] With only fourteen words,
John Lennon completely encompasses the ups and downs, rapture and suffering
inherent in a relationship, saying the bare minimum in words so that the
poignant A-B structure of the instrumentation can nail his message home.[4]
To attack
such a world-pervading concept with such complexity is a feat in itself, but
what is more remarkable is how little The Beatles do to reach that echelon of
consciousness in “I Want You (She’s So Heavy).” Other than a few bass flourishes
marking the changes, there really is very little to the tune. Ringo Starr’s
drumming is hardly more than the basics, and George’s accompaniment on guitar
and synth amounts to the chord progression. Even John’s leads are little more
than an embellished echo of his vocal melody. There is so little to this tune, yet
it manages to encompass endless interpretations and implications, a fact that
simultaneously pisses me off and leaves me in awe.
“I Want
You (She’s So Heavy)” is not a song that just slinks into my ears—it possesses me,
drooling through my veins in a delightfully unsettling manner. There is a
weight to every note, every whispered word, that makes my consciousness stand
at attention. “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” breaks my understanding of the
world’s most well-known band, forcing me to consider them in a newer, dimmer
light with every listen, and reminding me just why they, to this day, continue
to command the respect of millions.
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