Billy's Lines Of Gibberish

Fences of the Jardin Public — Bordeaux, Oct. 2007

As reported in the previous blog, I saw again in San Diego those monumental sculptures by Bernar Venet I had seen in Bergen and Bordeaux.
It reminded me of that short trip in Bordeaux two years ago for yet another medical conference. I don't remember much of the conference itself, but I do remember it was a good opportunity to try a couple of good wines.

Yet the city was not pleasant at the time. A big part of it was spoiled by constructions for a new tramway. Visiting was a pain. On my last day there though, as I walked among the road works to kill time until the next train to Paris, I reached by chance the Jardin Public — The Public Garden — a heaven of peace and greenery downtown. About twenty large photographs by Frédéric Desmesure were displayed on the fences of the park.


Taken during rehearsals, concerts, or in the wings, they caught various facets of life inside L'Orchestre d'Aquitaine, the Bordeaux Orchestra, freezing expressions, gazes, and gestures of the musicians, hereby emphasizing their work, stress, precision and concentration.


Watching such a series of photos was a little like chasing rainbows: you try to see the music when you cannot hear it. Thanks to them, my mood was lighter when I reached the station.

Cover of the Nine by Nine 45 rpm record (1970)

I confess that I deliberately waited for nine days since my previous blog, because I wanted to post this entry today 9/9/9, at 9:9 am.

Nine by nine by The John Dummer Famous Music Band

[BbN #9]

This piece was a huge hit in France in the 1970s. I still find it great now.

John, Paul, Ringo and George (Cover of Let it Be – 1970)

Paul McCartney had only just woke up in his room in London, one morning in 1964, when he hurried to the piano and turned on a tape recorder. During the night, he had dreamed of a melody he did not want to let slip into the recesses of his mind.

In order not to lose it then, he played it with temporary lyrics inspired by the breakfast he was just about to take with his girlfriend: 'Scrambled Eggs… Oh, baby, you've got so lovely legs'.

The music was here, the whole of its melody so precisely composed that McCartney was not sure at first it was truly a creation of his own. He feared it might be involuntary plagiarism, that he subconsciously remembered a music composed by someone else. 'For about a month', he told later, 'I went round to people in the music business and asked them whether they had ever heard it before. Eventually it became like handing something in to the police. I thought if no-one claimed it after a few weeks then I could have it.'

Beatlemania was as its peaks at the time. The group of four boys from Liverpool — whose name was a pun made of The Beetles (one among their many first names, and a tribute to Buddy Holly's group The Crickets) and 'to beat' — had turned into the world's most famous band in the history of popular music in the 20th century. Even, first dissensions had appeared, that would make the band break in 1970.

In 1964 though, John, Paul, George and Ringo would always sing together. John Lennon and Paul McCartney composed most of the songs, they would always sign together — Lennon/McCartney. It was the case also with Scrambled Eggs when McCartney succeeded at last to add real lyrics to the music composed during his sleep. Yet, for the first time, the song was not sung by the whole Beatles but Paul alone, accompanying himself on an acoustic guitar, with a string quartet on the background.

Yesterday has become one of the world's most popular songs ever, with more than 3,000 recorded versions. In a poll of  British music experts and listeners in 1999, it was even voted the best song of the 20th century. I do love the song, but I somewhat regret it has not remained an Ode to Scrambled Eggs, just for the sake of fun and originality.

[BbN #4]

Gagnants/Perdants by Noir Désir

Noir Désir became famous in 2001 with their song 'Le vent nous portera'. Yet the band was disrupted after singer Bertrand Cantat was jailed for the manslaughter of his girlfriend, actress Marie Trintignant after a violent row in a Lithuanian hotel in July 2003. He was sentenced to eight years imprisonment, but left jail last year after he had served half the sentence.

"Noir Désir died the same day as Marie", Cantat once said. Yet the band does not appear to be that dead, since they released two new songs on the Internet last Thursday, that everyone can download for free.

Le vent nous portera (Noir Désir)

For several months, I did not listen to 'Le vent nous portera' because I could not help thinking this voice belonged to a man who once beat his wife to death. I still have mixed feelings about it: the song exists anyway, and it is a great song.

Giorgio de Chirico The Red Tower (1913) The Barnes Foundation

When I was in Philadelphia lately, I visited The Barnes Foundation, a fascinating place where hundreds (!) of chef-d'oeuvres are displayed. It owns a lot of Impressionist paintings especially. Also, many canvases by various painters who were not impressionists are exhibited, among which several pieces by Giorgio de Chirico.

I like many paintings by Chirico, in particular those he painted during his 'metaphysical' period. Yet the artist later joined the futurist movement 'Valori Plastici', then its 'Novecento' following, who both supported Mussolini's fascism. I sure dislike what were the ideas and behaviour of the individual. I still love many of his paintings anyway.

Another example: French writer Louis-Ferdinand Céline, also a doctor in medicine. His first novel, 'Journey to the End of the Night' (Voyage au bout de la nuit) is among my favourite books ever. 'Death on the Instalment Plan' (Mort à crédit) is another great novel by him. His medical thesis about Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis, who discovered the cause of puerperal fever and introduced hand washing in medicine, is at the same time a marvel of smartness and independence of mind, and splendid literature.

Yet Céline was a racist and anti-Semite, who shared many opinions with the Nazis. He wrote shameful pamphlets about the Jews before and during WWII. After the war, he was convicted a collaborator and imprisoned. I despise the man, I deeply admire several novels he wrote.

So... I still look at paintings by Chirico. I still read Céline. I still listen to music by Wagner. I may still listen to the songs by Bertrand Cantat also then. It does not mean I would shake the hand of the man, if it ever happened that I met him.

Benjamin Franklin Parkway — Philadelphia, Nov. 2008

Wherever you go in Philadelphia, you meet Benjamin Franklin.

One day, you visit the Philadelphia Museum or Arts on Benjamin Franklin Parkway, then gaze at the Benjamin Franklin National Memorial in the rotunda of the Franklin Institute of Science Museum.

Another day, in the Independence National Historical Park, you walk through Franklin Square, close to the Benjamin Franklin Bridge over the Delaware River, then in front of Franklin's Grave, on your way to Independence Hall where the founding fathers of the U.S.A. — including Benjamin Franklin — signed and ratified the U.S. Constitution on July 4, 1776.  Two blocks from there, you reach Franklin Court, where once stood Franklin's house. Below the court is the Franklin Museum, that is filled with paintings, objects, and inventions associated with Benjamin Franklin...

Okay, let's stop making fun of the way Philadelphians worship 'Ben', because he actually was one of the most historically fascinating personalities in the 18th century. Although he was given little education as a child, he became famous for being a printer, an inventor, a scientist, a musician, a champion swimmer, an economist, a writer, a philosopher, and a statesman.

Especially, Benjamin Franklin personifies the 18th century approach to science. When a subject interested him, he gathered information, experimented, and then developed a practical application.

Electricity, symbolized by the lightning rod, was the source of his worldwide renown as an inventor, but the list of his other contributions includes improved streetlights, more efficient heating, bifocal, and even a musical instrument, the armonica, of which a reproduction is displayed in his underground Museum below Franklin Court.

Franklin was in England in 1761, when he heard a performer playing musical glasses. He wrote then: "He collected a number of glasses of different sizes, fixed them near each other on a table, and tuned them by putting into them water, more or less as each note required. The tones were brought out by passing his fingers round their brims."

Franklin loved the music, and because it is very difficult to set up about fifty glasses on a table, he decided to find a more practical method of creating music from glass.  He had a glass maker create 37 glass bowls tuned to specific tones, according to their different size and thickness, then ran an iron rod through a hole in the top of each hemisphere so that they could nest together, from largest to smallest. Under the row of bowls, he put a water reservoir to moisten the rims of the bowls, and linked all of this to an apparatus like a spinning wheel, with a foot treadle that turned the rod, making the bowls rotate. This removed the need to rotate one's own hands, and allowed quick access to every note successively, like on a piano or harpsichord.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy

The instrument has a full compliment of 48 notes, two octaves above and below middle C. Franklin named it 'The Armonica', after the Italian word armonica which means 'harmony'. It is also called a Glass Harmonica sometimes. The Armonica never needs to be tuned, since glass bowls don't have the same intonation troubles as wood and metal instruments. Yet there are fragile... nothing's perfect.

Franklin's invention took Europe by storm. Some said it was more popular than the violin at the end of the eighteenth century in Europe. At least 300 pieces were written for it, including works by Mozart and Beethoven. Thousands armonicas were sold; one factory employed over a hundred people for this purpose only. Many of the performers were women, and even the French Queen Marie-Antoinette took lessons.

The popularity of the instrument faded quickly afterwards, Several decades later though, Tchaikovsky used it in his famous Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of The Nutcracker ballet.

Klaus Nomi started being famous in the late seventies when he performed with David Bowie in New-York. Quite unusually, the German countertenor was involved in underground and pop music, and in opera as well.

He was not only famous because of his exceptionally wide tessitura, but also because of his elfin look and usual appearances on stage as a black and white alien. Yet his career was short: he was one of the first celebrities to die from AIDS.

In November, 1982, before his home crowd in Munich, Klaus Nomi performed The Cold Song from King Arthur by Henry Purcell. Although the audience did not know, he was already seriously ill at the time, which appears obvious on the movie below. He died a few months later, aged 39 only.

What power art thou, who from below Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff and wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold, I can scarcely move or draw my breath Let me, let me freeze again to death.

The lyrics to this old aria appear strangely prophetic when you watch at it now, the last two lines especially... Knowing what a difficult time Klaus Nomi was having then, just adds to its intensity and frightening beauty.

Ipanema Beach – Rio de Janeiro, April 2007

The World Congress of Nephrology was taking place in Rio de Janeiro and I was there!

For several months, I had waited to go to this dreamy city, and hoped I could visit it a little between sessions. I certainly was there for working, yet not every communication in a convention is interesting: you usually go from one session to another then, and listen to the talks about topics you're interested in only. Hopefullythen, there are a few gaps in your schedule, when there is really nothing on the programme you feel worth attending. You may then leave the convention centre for one hour or two without guilt, and visit the place.

In Rio de Janeiro, it was not possible though, because the Convention Centre was located in an almost deserted neighbourhood, far away from the city centre, beaches, stores, everything.

Rio de Janeiro's Sugar Loaf – April 2007 Pic taken from a boat on Guanabara Bay

On the last day then, I decided not to go to the congress at all. Instead of taking a bus at 7:00 again, I remained downtown and played the perfect tourist: I took the cable-car to the Sugar Loaf, went round the Botanical Garden, strolled around in Old Rio streets, went on a two-hour cruise on Guanabara bay, had a swim in the ocean at Ipanema beach, and on the evening, at Ipanema also, I went to the Vinícius Piano Bar, a famous Bossa-Nova club in Vinícius de Moraes street.

Toni Barreto sings Garota de Ipanema by Tom Jobim & Vinícius de Moraes

There were about 50 people in the club only, and it was packed. Locals mainly, which was of good omen for the music to come. The Vinícius Piano Bar is in the same street as a restaurant called A garota de Ipanema — what the famous song Girl from Ipanema is called in the original Brazilian version.

The place is where Vinícius de Moraes, Antonio Carlos (Tom) Jobim and João Gilberto, in the early sixties, used to ogle a beautiful girl called Heloisa Pinheiro, on her way to the very same Ipanema Beach where I was swimming a few hours earlier. A new song was born, and a new musical genre, Bossa-Nova.

Drinking caipirinhas and eating a very good meal of which I forgot the name, I listened to a talented singer called Toni Barreto, who accompanied himself on the guitar while singing compositions of his own and Bossa-Nova standards such as Águas De Março, Água De Beber... and Garota de Ipanema, of course.

I went to Lyon yesterday. When you come from Paris, it is a short and easy trip: about 500 km, two hours by TGV. I planned it meticulously several months ago though, when I heard Leonard Cohen would make a stage there on July 9, on his first tour in 15 years.

Obviously, L. Cohen is not any more the young writer of Beautiful Losers I blogged about lately. He is not any more either the folk singer who created Suzanne and Famous Blue Raincoat. He is a 73 year-old man with a history.

Although he was born in a Canadian Jewish family, and says he has always remained a Jewish, he has embraced Buddhist philosophy for decades. He spent several years in the nineties on Mount Baldy, a Buddhist retreat in California, then went back to the world, had most of his money stolen by his manager, recorded two more albums (Ten new songs in 2001, Dear Heather in 2004), and in 2008, at last, decided to tour again, starting with his homeland Canada, then Europe.

The Roman Theatre in Fourvière (Lyon)

Lyon was his first stage in France, before Nice on July 22 and Paris in November. The show was a unique evening performance in Les Nuits de Fourvière, a summer festival held every year from June to August in the marvelous site of the Roman theatre.

A very special place for a very special singer, the Roman Theatre was built more than two millenaries ago, during the reign of Augustus in 15 BC, as the centre of the Roman city of Lugdunum. It is just the best place you can dream of to be at a show. Just have a look at the picture above, I took yesterday in the afternoon, when they were making the stage ready : the site is gorgeous and its maximum audience is about 3,500 only, which means you're close to the stage wherever you sit.

At 21:30, the show began. Leonard Cohen arrived on the stage half-running, a puny-looking white-haired man with a trilby hat. He said "bonsoir", and for the first time in my life I saw a crowd cheering an artist with a five-minute standing ovation *before* the concert.

He then said the first lines of a poem every French-speaking person in the audience recognized at once:

Danse moi à ta beauté Avec un violon en flammes, Danse moi dans la panique Jusqu'au repos de mon âme...

Dance me to the End of Love

... it was a French translation of Dance me to the end of love, his musicians then began playing while he switched to English and started singing. He would later introduce most of his songs the same way during the first set, with a few lines translated into French. He talked in French also sometimes, so that everybody in France remembers (how could we forget it?) he is also a Québécois, born and raised in Montréal.

The Future, There ain't no Cure for Love, Bird on a Wire, Everybody Knows... and so on, Leonard Cohen sang 23 songs, including 5 encores, with his deep and steady voice.

The whole of the show was very professional, thanks to the musical direction by Roscoe Beck (who plays the bass in the band also), but the professionalism of the performance did not lessen the emotion the lyrics gave vent to, of which the meaning so often goes beyond the words.

The three vocalists sang beautifully — Charley and Hattie Webb, the Webb sisters, and Sharon Robinson, that Cohen repeatedly referred to as his collaborator — she is the co-writer of several songs. Every musician was good, and was individually named by Cohen several times during the show after their solos: besides Roscoe Beck on bass, there was Rafael Gayol on drums; Neil Larsen on keyboards; Bob Metzger on guitar; Dino Soldo on, well, maybe ten different instruments, from saxophone and other woodwinds to synthesizer and blues harmonica; and last but not least, Javier Mas who played several stringed instruments, among which the Oud, in particular as a wonderful airy introduction to Who by Fire.

Between songs, applause was so loud sometimes that Cohen had to repeat merci, merci, thank you, thank you so much, until he was "allowed" to sing the next song.

In order to make the stone-built terraces more comfortable to the public, organizers had kindly provided recyclable and reusable cushions before the show. After the first encores, people started throwing their cushions to the stage, like frisbees. Several landed on there, which surprised Leonard a lot at first, then made him laugh and take his hat, mimicking he would throw it back into the public. One of the Webb sister even took a camera and made pictures of the scene, and apparently kept one cushion as a souvenir also.

The concert lasted about 3 hours, according to my watch, since it told it was 00:35 when Leonard and his band left the stage for the last time.

"On n'est pas pressés" he would say during the show indeed (we're not in a hurry). I suspect my watch is a liar though: I can swear the whole performance certainly did not last more than half of that time.

June 21, the day of the Summer solstice in the Northern hemisphere, falls on a Saturday this year. I expect there will be a lot of people in the streets this night then, to celebrate the Fête de la Musique, the World Music Day.

Fête de la musique means Festival of Music in French. Launched in 1982 in France, it is now held in more than one hundred countries all over the world. New cities join the festivities every year, the main newcomers in 2008 being Melbourne (Australia), Sacramento (USA), Erbil (Iraqi Kurdistan), Cebu (Philippines), Port-Moresby (Papua New Guinea), Hannover (Germany), Ostrava (Czech Republic), Málaga (Spain) and Québec (Canada). Several traditional festivals happening on solstice day, such as the Midsummer Celebration and Saint John's Eve festival, now take part in the popular festival.

The purpose of the festival is to make all genres of music accessible to the public, with a multitude of free concerts everywhere, including places that are not usually used for concerts.

Officials say that more than 10,000 free concerts will be held in France today. Also, amateur musicians are encouraged to perform in the streets. The slogan Faites de la musique ! (Make music!) — which is pronounced the same as Fête de la Musique — is used to promote this goal in French speaking countries.

I'll probably spend most of next night strolling around in the Latin Quarter, listening to a musician, singer, or band after another one. Leaning on a wall at the corner of a street sometimes, sometimes seating on a bench in a public garden or at the terrace of a café, no doubt I'll hear the best and the worst: the festival is open to everybody, without discrimination to résumé, background, style and experience. Musicians only need to find a place where to put their gear, which in Paris means they'd better arrive early if they intend to play in a place where a lot of people walk through.

Frederica Von Stade sings Voi Che Sapete by W. A. Mozart

A good classical guitarist may come on right after a dreadful heavy metal band... or the contrary. You can leave the rap singer on the boulevard and get closer to the piano and mezzo-soprano performing Voi Che Sapete in a courtyard, if you are lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. The unstructured nature of the festival is the basis of its success.

Famous Blue Raincoat [Leonard Cohen]

	Beautiful Losers was written outside, on a table set among the rocks, weeds and daisies, behind my house on Hydra, an island in the Aegean Sea. I lived there many years ago. It was a blazing hot summer. I never covered my head. What you have in your hands is more of a sunstroke than a book. Leonard Cohen
Leonard Cohen writes Beautiful Losers on Hydra island in the mid-1960s.

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!
Sondern laßt uns angenehmere
anstimmen und freudenvollere
Freude!

[Oh friends, not these tones!
Let us raise our voices in more
Pleasing and more joyful sounds!
Joy! ]

Today is Europe Day, the 'National Day' of an entity that is not a nation. It gives an opportunity to hear Ludwig van Beethoven's Ode to Joy, the centerpiece of his 9th Symphony.

The official anthem of the European Union is an adaptation of Beethoven's masterpiece by Herbert von Karajan, without the lyrics by Frederich Schiller — he wrote in German, of course — to be more universal. It's not such a wonderful piece of music as the original though, of which here is a small part :

On May 9, 1950, French Foreign Minister Robert Schuman read to the international press a declaration [Schuman's declaration translated into English] calling France, Germany and other European countries to pool together their coal and steel production (coal and steel industries being at that time the basis of all military power) as the first concrete foundation of a European federation. In Paris that day, a first move was made towards the creation of what is now known as the European Union. It happened shortly after the end of WWII, that was also the third war between France and Germany in 70 years, with millions dead on each side.

A few years later, in 1957, the Treaty of Rome established the European Community. It was signed by six countries: France, Germany, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. There are now 27 countries inside what has become the European Union, and a war between them is just unthinkable.

The European Union has several flaws still. Especially, it is too much an economical entity and not enough a political union. Yet it has afforded to EU countries peace and stability for several decades. Heads of EU countries and EU administration are almost extricated from religious influences at work in the Middle-East and United States.

Some day hopefully, the EU might even succeed in spreading its values concerning human rights, the death penalty, global warming, and other issues. The sooner, the better.

There are such moments in life: you look at a person you like, or love, and you realize in your deepest self that you will probably never see him or her again.

(Patti Smith, May 06, 2008 — approximate quote).

The Fondation Cartier pour l'art contemporain is an airy glass and steel building in the 14th arrondissement of Paris. It was designed specially by Jean Nouvel, also the creator of the Institut du Monde Arabe and the Musée du Quai Branly. As the name indicates, it is devoted to contemporary art. That's also the building where the great, yet disturbing, exhibition of David Lynch's works I wrote about previously took place in 2007.

The Fondation Cartier is now displaying an exhibition dedicated to the visual work of Patti Smith, named “Land 250”. Drawings, films, objects, and essentially photographs taken with a Land 250 polaroid camera. I went there past Tuesday, tooking advantage of evening opening hours.

I did not know that Patti Smith would be there in person on that evening. Few people knew obviously, since we weren't much more than 150 people there. I easily found a free space to be seated on a carpet, at 5 meters from her standing at the micro. It was not a show, nor a concert, but a lecture, a discussion with the public, questions and answers in both directions.

Patti Smith talked about her photos, about the poets she loves: William Blake, Arthur Rimbaud, Jean Genet, René Daumal. She sang a couple of songs, and read poems.

When someone in the public asked which photos she loved most, she did not answer, but said (quoting from memory): “I love some photos because they are technically, well... quite good” [laughing]. “There are also many photos that I love despite they are not that good technically, because they embody significant personal meaning: travels I made, people I met, objects that once belonged to people who mean something to me”.

“For example”, she added, “see this horse, on the poster of the exhibition. It's not a bad photo, it's not technically perfect though. Yet it means something to me. I took it in Africa, at the end of a horse ride. Just before we left the place. I was about to climb up into the truck, and suddenly felt a gaze on my back. I turned round, and it was him. The horse I had gone riding for several days. He did not move, he waited while I looked for my camera in my bag, looked at me when I focused and took this only Polaroid. Then, he went away. We both knew we'd never see the other one again.”

I could not help but think it was a shame this picture could not be used as the cover for her great album, Horses, 30 years ago.

The whole happening did not last more than 90 minutes, but it was pleasant and friendly, although the public was quite reverent and talked little (I am simply not sure most people were fluent enough in English to ask her questions).

After she left, I spent about one more hour wandering around the exhibition. Several photographs were good, but I did not felt the same as last year about David Lynch's exhibit, that it was a great artistic event. More than once, to tell the truth, I even wondered if these little photographs of beds, guitars and statues, or this stone "from the river where Virginia Woolf committed suicide" would be in an exhibition if they were not put in display by a famous rock singer named Patti Smith.

	The Gods were bored, they beckoned back their voice (Yves Saint-Laurent)
Thirthy years ago, the most famous Greek since Socrates died in her appartment in Paris.	Maria Callas sings 'Una voce poco fa' by Gioacchino Rossini

Luciano Pavarotti died at 5 a.m. Thursday morning, local time, at his home in Modena, Italy. He was 71, and one of the greatest tenors ever.

Mstislav Rostropovich plays at the Berlin Wall — November 11, 1989

Mstislav Leopoldovich Rostropovich died today in Moskow, a few days after his 80th birthday. He was not only one of the best cellists ever, but a symbol of freedom and resistance to communist dictatorship.

Farewell, Slava.

When electricity met the Blues: Chicago Blues

All day long, I have been carrying my digital camera in Chicago streets, parks and museums. It is a good one, but it is also a big one. It's not that heavy, only it is cumbersome. That's why I decided not to take it with me tonight... What a mistake.

Being in Chicago for a couple of days, I had to go and listen to good blues music, and Buddy Guy's Legend was a few blocks from my hotel only. The guys playing in there were Eddie Shaw & The Wolfgang, good music.

Every Time I Sing The Blues (Buddy Guy & Eric Clapton)

Since I was silly enough not to bring my camera, I took a couple of shots with my cell phone. Little light and the musicians moving a lot with the rhythm, it was a stroke of luck that one photo, although not great, was good enough not to be put directly to the bin.

From now on, I am always taking my camera when I go to a special place, I swear!

I am not a Protestant and I don't speak German, yet I went this morning to the Deutsche Evangelische Christuskirche (German Evangelical Church) in Paris, and listened to classical music by Johann Sebastian Bach and Georg Philipp Telemann. Great music.

I also learned a little about Protestantism, from a German friend was there. In particular, I learned how different the meaning of Evangelical is, whether you are in Europe or North America. I already knew there were many religious persuasions in Protestantism, but I confess I have not remembered everything about that.

Only I remember that, in North America, the word Evangelicalism refers to conservative Protestantism, more precisely supporters of revivalism, whereas in Europe, it simply means Protestantism. The German Evangelical Church where they sang Johann Sebastian Bach's cantata Herr Jesu Christ, whar' Mensh und Gott so beautifully this morning is Lutheran Church.

I loved the music. I loved the tapestry of John Evangelist taken from a painting of Albrecht Dürer that was hung up on a wall in the Church on this occasion. I loved also the modern stained glass window I photographied in there to be my shot of the day.

The Beatles — Sgt Pepper's  Lonely Hearts Club Band

When I'm sixty four was written by Paul McCartney, who sings it on Beatles' album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, released 1967. Paul McCartney turns 64 today.

When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now.
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

I could be handy, mending a fuse
When your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside
Sunday mornings go for a ride,

Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
Who could ask for more.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage,
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear
We shall scrimp and save
Grandchildren on your knee
Vera ,Chuck & Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view
Indicate precisely what you mean to say
Yours sincerely, wasting away

Give me your answer, fill in a form
Mine for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-four?