“1…2…1, 2, 3, 4!” All at once, the messiest, most disorganized, most insane group of rock ‘n’ roll legends come together for an iconic cover of a Beatles classic.
On January 20, 1988, the third Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony took place in Cleveland, Ohio. Only five artists were inducted: The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, The Drifters, and The Supremes. Four extremely talented music groups and one Bob Dylan were enough to put on a messy show.
Tensions were already high among the bands and the people inducting them. Mike Love of The Beach Boys, being the self-pompous ass that he was, started insulting the other guests, especially Mick Jagger. Mick Jagger himself then followed suit by inducting his “rival,” The Beatles. Diana Ross didn’t make it to the show because she had a falling out with one of the other Supremes. Ringo Starr was drunk as shit. The quiet Beatle, George Harrison, had to take the stage and improvise a charming speech. Paul McCartney didn’t attend due to songwriting royalties and legal issues with Starr and Harrison.
When you take a look at the performance, the stage looks like it might collapse. As the keytar swinging Paul Schaffer finishes the countdown, a hammer of instruments comes clamoring down. Instantly, the chords of “I Saw Her Standing There” ring out from two drum sets and too many guitars on stage. Two jukeboxes sit on the edges of the stage, tightly squeezing the performers in the center. Overhead, an ugly design of what I suppose is the Hall Of Fame hangs downward over the cascade of fellows. The camera zooms in and holy hell, it’s George Harrison and Bob Dylan. George is rocking back and forth, doing his signature headshake to the “Wooo!” of the song. Bob Dylan, as usual, looks lost.
Throughout the first verse, you wonder: Who’s singing? George and Bob aren’t at the microphone, so whose rough vocals are cutting through everyone else? And then the second verse starts. The immediate shot shows the back of the head of none other than Billy Joel. The proud piano man of New York is chopping up the keys, singing his soul into that microphone. And fuck, he’s pretty damn good, taking over the first two verses and the bridge. No wonder the camera couldn’t find him at first, cause he’s way in the back. Props to him for holding that high note at the end too! My parents have always hated him for “Uptown Girl,” but man oh man, can he sing The Beatles!
The third verse comes along and, let’s be honest, that’s definitely Mick Jagger. After a passing shot of Ringo trying to keep tempo while drunk, we cut to George and Mick sharing the mic for “How could I dance with another!” With George’s head shakes and Jagger’s wide-ass mouth, the two “rivals” smile at each other before entering the guitar solo. For a brief moment, although I’m sure the two were friends regardless, a Beatle and a Stone were singing one of the most iconic covers of all time.
This sound engineer sucks.
While Mick’s shaking his cute hair and Tina Turner turns around, confused about who’s supposed to do what, there’s a brief oscillation of some rapid guitar playing. Turn up the volume, god dammit! I don’t want to see Ringo’s drumming or Paul Schaffer swinging that fuckass keytar around. And just like that, as the crowd parts ways and the tone of a guitar is turned up, there he is…in his black mullet (there were a shit ton of mullets in the 80s), striped suit, the one and only: Jeff Beck. Whooo mama! Make that Telecaster sing real good, baby!
Right before the camera switches away, peep the bottom right corner. As Mick and George are swaying away, a head pops between them. Who dares pop their head between legends other than another legend himself, Bruce Springsteen? He’s the only New Jerseyan, other than Patti Smith, to convince me that their pizza is better than NYC’s (everyone else is just plain wrong). After some delightful encouragement from the two, Springsteen seizes the mic with his hand, delivering the bridge in that mighty voice. Some people say he shouts the lyrics rather than sings. I say who gives a shit, it’s the Boss. These critics just haven’t heard “I’m On Fire” yet. He can’t hit that high note like Billy Joel, but Jagger and Harrison swoop in like two angels on his shoulders. With a little bit of back-and-forth vocals, the song abruptly concludes. Yes, Bob Dylan still looks lost as hell.
So what’s the big fuss about?
I like to imagine myself in the front row of that crowd in ’88. I would be squealing like those Beatles fans 20 years prior. There’s so much drama surrounding this performance. I bet Jagger and Love shared some private words after the show (maybe Mike Love got socked; you never know). But I’ve never seen some of these music legends have such gleeful joy before on stage. Of course, The Beatles knew how to pick a good song to cover from Little Richard. But the way Springsteen hops on the end beat is so adorable. I love how Jagger’s hair shakes with his tambourine. I didn’t see any frowns from the Beach Boys, The Drifters, or The Supremes. And if I were in the crowd, I could fall in love with music all over again. Through all the drama that life throws at you, music can make you sob, space out, punch a desk, and more. But, in my opinion, music like that would make me dance in my seat in Cleveland, back in ’88.
