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“What were the Beatles really like? She’s asked this every day. “Very irreverent, very flirty,” she says, “just like my own boys growing up. That John Lennon was a very naughty boy. He preferred men. He was very shy with women, you know, trying to get confidence in himself with that naughty schoolboy humour, that catch-the-girl, kiss-the-girl thing. If you came on as a siren, he’d run a mile.””
Cilla Black, interview in the Telegraph, August, 1997
I think the Beatles would’ve been happier if they were tiny and they lived in a sewing kit in Brian’s house and they all slept inside the same empty box of cigarettes and they got to play sold out gigs for the mice
an edit i made.
I couldn’t stop looking at her, didn’t want to blink. She was wicked looking—shiny black hair that hung down over the curve of slender hips, drooping lashes, partly raised, no Raggedy Ann doll. The sight of her made me high. All that and her voice. It was a voice that drove out bad spirits. It was like she’d come down from another planet.
Bob Dylan on Joan Baez, Chronicles, Vol. One, 2004
I tell people I’m into The Beatles and they think I mean it in an “I wanna hold your hand” kinda way or a “come together” kinda way but what they don’t know is that I’m actually tortured by them, like virulently afflicted with their melody and harmony and mythology and queerness