If you live in Portland and are into metal, you have likely met or at least know who Nathan Carson is. When he’s not busy manning turntables around the city spinning rock and metal classics for hungry audiences (including his weekly Heavy Metal Ladies Night at East End, he is booking tours and shows for bands through his company Nanotear, or is holding down the rhythmic end of the dark abyssal sound as the drummer for Witch Mountain (who are gearing up to release their first LP in a decade, South Of Salem). Nathan was kind enough to take time out of his impressively busy schedule to reminisce for The Vinyl District Portland on his first record: The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine.
Nathan Carson
For my eighth birthday, my aunt Susan bought me a Capitol reissue of the Yellow Submarine LP. As my parents were devout rockers and my mom had seen The Beatles in ’66, this was no great stretch. I was a fan from birth, and Mom had even hand-painted a little yellow submarine replica onto the glove box in our vintage Saab station wagon. There were road trips that involved us singing, “We all live in a yellow Saabmarine,” in unison. Oh the Seventies…
I know I had at least partial possession of a number of children’s storybook albums and hit single 45s (“Cars” by Gary Numan was in heavy rotation on my kiddie turntable) but Yellow Submarine is the first LP I recall being mine and mine alone. I’d been watching the Beatles-inspired psychedelic cartoon film when it was played annually on television for several years in a row. Blue Meanies and Apple Bonkers and Seas of Holes were already integral stitches in my mental tapestry. And then there was that bit of pot cookie that I ate when I was six… Yes, I can literally say “I was stoned in the Seventies.”
As an album, Yellow Submarine is an odd beast. It’s a six song set: two of their biggest hits, and four of their rarer numbers. All my metal friends today seem to agree that “Hey Bulldog” is one of the heaviest Beatles songs ever. Harrison has a couple of fun gems too — “Only A Northern Song” and “It’s All Too Much.” But it was always “All You Need is Love” that resonated with me. Whether it’s because I’m a Cancer, or a sissy or a mama’s boy, or just plain romantic, that tune became something of a mantra of faith. Throughout my adolescence and all those awkward years, I always recall those five words having more meaning than any moldy old Bible. In fact, it stuck with me as the firmament of my being until the day my wife left. My faith remains shaken, but the song is still immortal.
Examining my original copy of Yellow Submarine now reveals a few interesting facts. First, there’s the primary-colored album art which is psychedelic, alluring, and prominently includes a number twenty-three reference. It would be another seven years before I’d read the Principia Discordia, so it’s nice to know that eight-year-old Nate was already being indoctrinated into the Illuminati. (Hint: my birthday is June 23 so I was “born attuned.”)
Next, I notice that though I lost the inner sleeve decades ago, the record is in surprisingly good condition. I guess I was always a bit of a collector/nerd. Anyway, side 1 does reveal some wear from years of gentle play. But side 2, which features all the orchestral arrangements by George Martin appears to be unplayed. Sorry George, you’re not the fifth Beatle after all! (Yoko is).
