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"Good Morning, Good Morning"

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Cock-a-doodle-doo!!!

"Good Morning, Good Morning", time fer yer cornflakes — Kellogg's, natch: only the best will doodle-do! Unusual to have our Johnnie up an' about so early, and the rasping horns at the intro seem to echo his indignation: though it soon becomes evident that he's only done it to show us all just what a pointless exercise it is, anyway. Let me take you down on an existential trip round the city centre... "Nothing to do, nothing to say", except to participate in the meaningless round of routines and trivial conversations.

Paul's bass marks out the slog, with Ringo reinforcing it until compelled to splash out in exasperation and indignation at the absurdity of it all, or to rattle off a round from some imaginary machine gun with which he seems to want to wipe out all these losers — or at least wake 'em all up — if just for their own sakes.

The wind begins to buffet round the vocal, continuing to gust between lines. The entire Sounds Incorporated horn section was supplemented by various other musicians to really blow things up. No wonder it all starts to get a bit claustrophobic: chill out, man! Time for a quick smoke up some secluded back-alley, perhaps? OK, that's better...

After a while, you start to smile:
Now you feel cool...


The good-vibe stroll round familiar 'places I remember' doesn't last long, however, as a blazing guitar solo hurtles him back headlong into the hustle and bustle. The paranoia mounts as the evening rush raises the rhythm of the people on the street, a mass brass-sax assault exploding into a veering zig-zag across the narrative. The prospect of the ritual teatime encounter with the missus seems to have John on the verge of a panic attack, George's guitar fills still squealing in his head. Trying to chase the totty seems to be the best strategy, the only thing that gets him "in gear". As he'd said the previous year, "Sex is the only physical thing I can be bothered with any more."

But it's all getting a bit too much out there: a head-spinning cacophony of instrumentation and increasingly bizarre animal noises. Reminds me of that Lennon story where he dropped a trip 'by accident' in the studio: "I thought I was taking some uppers and I was not in the state of handling it..."

"Good morning, Good morning,
Get me fuckin' out of here!"

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