Let's At Sea (December, 1970, Timaeus | Apple)
< file under Beatles In Atlantis >
~ an approximation of this album, using latest remasters of solo studio renditions, can be heard here on Apple Music ~
Atlantean delegates negotiating with some Surface corners,
buying time,
knowing their dusty counterparts
were not conferring in good faith
{Upon initiating this series of posts, some of which relies (see note in first entry) on sources which must remain off-the-record, Library Industries fully expected to conclude with the Atlantean release of Abbey Road. As we neared that intended conclusion, however, the astonishing revelations shared in this final entry came to light, provided to us by a source, or sources, we for now can only describe as unimpeachable.}
A small but respected contingent within the Atlantean administration argued for absolute domination of the surface world as the only acceptable response to the land threat. President Rubbqe, the bulk of her cabinet, and the majority will of the people, as determined from intensive referendum caucuses followed by final proposition balloting, pointed instead to a resigned preference toward total disengagement as the only humane, moral approach to dealing with the looming barbarism from above. Atlantis, assured by dint of their vast technological and military superiority absolute "victory" in any showdown with surface powers, did not wish to obliterate innocent Surface Life on Earth in the inevitable existential escalation. A veil of secrecy now enveloped the realm such that no word of internal Atlantean affairs, not even of matters like public opinion and electoral results, made way to the surface. Meanwhile, it was clear from Surface press that land leadership had drummed up growing popular support to deal with Atlantis militarily if deemed (or claimed) necessary. The aforementioned negotiations, a pretense for the surface leaders — a blatant delay as they prepared an all-out assault on Atlantis — provided the Atlantean Chamber of Science time to ready the means of absolute disentanglement via insurmountable distancing from the warring Dry.Tivowr Dorna, privy to the innermost workings of the Atlantan administration, was granted a surface-communication exemption as regarded ironing out licensing of solo Beatles work. Having long ago secured the trust of the artists from a distance, courtesy of his sensitive handling of their defunct band's underwater catalog, he now entered into contract discussions about their individual work whilst keeping an enormous secret from them. Dorna knew the Atlantean Solve to the Surface Conflict had been arrived at and was imminent:
off-world relocation to an oceanic exoplanet.
It was very late fall 1970. A McCartney post-Beatles album and two Starr solo albums had already been issued, Harrison had his first post-Beatles album – a double or triple, depending on how you slice it – on its way, and Lennon was about to follow his striking early solo / Plastic Ono Band single sides with his debut solo LP. Aside from the title track and another tune from Harrison's upcoming triple, issued in a concocted band performance, and as a one-man demo, respectively, on Timaeus Beatles releases over the past year, not a note of this had been heard by Atlanteans other than Dorna himself.
A complication Tivowr had learned of not long after considering, and being dissuaded from, issuing George's first solo album, Wonderwall Music, in its entirety, now meant he found himself needing to negotiate with the former bandmates in unison, no easy sell to the fractured foursome. Atlantean music publishing standards, going back to a dispute within one of the nation's most popular instrumental big bands of an earlier era, prohibited any release under solo/individual names from members of an existing group until a new agreement was reached across the parties, in joint meetings of all concerned. With the Beatles, finished though they were, still a legally extant entity, this restriction applied.
Thankfully, advanced Atlantean tech meant Dorna did not actually need to get John, Paul, George, and Ringo into a room with him. He secured for the four of them, and his mentor and pal George Martin, handheld Atlantean satellite communicators, by which they all attended, virtually, meetings towards the goal of establishing release of the all-but-legally dissolved band's solo work. Martin, no longer an EMI employee nor currently working with any of the four, was likely invited merely to increase Dorna's level of ease in the meetings, and/or with hope of fostering a certain civility in the proceedings.
Given known tensions and even acrimony among the former bandmates, these talks went smoothly with all ex-members agreeing to Dorna's pitch, grateful towards him for helping the Beatles become by far the most embraced Surface act in Atlantean history. Explaining resources were greatly limited due to what he coyly deemed "defense and manufacturing considerations in light of strained relations with outside world powers" Dorna proposed a double LP compilation representing work from the four incipient solo careers would be the best Timaeus could manage, and noted it would continue in the tradition of unique releases for this special market. Dorna choose songs from across the solo recordings at his disposal, preferring in Harrison's case a couple of early takes and a demo over final produced versions. Only one change was suggested by the erstwhile band: Tivowr had selected the Sentimental Journey cover of Stardust, arranged by Paul, to be Ringo's number; George offered to send the recently mixed It Don't Come Easy, recorded early in the year, which Dorna had yet to hear and which would not see surface release until the following spring, with Ringo wholeheartedly agreeing to this substitution. Though that number would provide his only vocal spotlight, Ringo's drumming would be amply represented on selections from John and George.
Back in the corridors of power, with graver matters in mind, a discovery was greeted with what might be most accurately regarded as a celebratory solemnity. A suitable — and uninhabited — planet had been located within the waters of which to transplant all of Atlantis. Upon this disclosure, Dorna, a de facto cabinet member, was struck with sudden inspiration for one ultimate effort at reaching peace with the Surface World— offering them something much of their younger and restless citizenry would clamor for, while giving the Atlanteans (whether staying on Earth or soon departing) one last and very special connection to their favorite land act. Leadership agreed, cautiously but enthusiastically.
Promptly Dorna convened, somewhat to their surprise, a followup conference with the splintered quartet and their longtime producer. Tivowr asked, simply and boldly… "Howzbouteph [sic] instead of a compilation introducing these solo songs to Atlantis, you four come introduce them, in person, together— in a live set…?!?"
The faintest gasps and a lingering pause followed.
Dorna expounded upon the crisis facing the Atlanteans, through no fault of their own, daringly going beyond his remit from leadership and telling the five in sworn confidence that shy of a peaceful resolution Atlantis would soon vanish, in its entirety, from Earth. Further, he explained the purpose of such an event would be far more momentous than introducing these songs to the Liverpudlians' devoted aquatic audience. A twofold agenda was put forth: providing such earnest fans a chance to finally see these four in person — a tremendous thanks, from you to them, he punned — while raising among Surface populations a sympathetic awareness of Atlanteans' plight, generating goodwill towards them from the countless Beatles fans worldwide who'd dearly appreciate the chance to see a reassembled fabsum and consequently be open to hearing a message of sea-land unity. The event, to be kept secret from the Surface until after its completion and the group's safe return home, would be cast live into Atlantean homes for all who couldn't attend, filmed for later broadcast in the Surface World, and recorded by Martin directing a team of Timaeus' finest engineers for a (likely Atlantean-only) double LP, to be followed by Atlantis issuance of the existing and future solo records. Such a modern benefit concert at this scale would be a first. It also would belatedly realize one of the abandoned aspects of the collapsed Get Back project: introducing a dedicated fanbase to a slew of songs by way of a live performance subsequently fashioned into an album. He suggested if averse to officially reforming for the event, the four assembled could be billed, for instance, as the Fab Former.
No reply
It was as if the satellite connecting them had cut out.
Dorna beseeched the stunned silence; this would, he stressed, be in the interest of peace and the continued presence on Earth of an entire peoples.
Starr, cracking the icy stillness with what would prove the final Ringoism to impact course of the band's history, interjected:
"Let's, at sea!"
Promotional materials announced the upcoming concert to the staggered joy of the public. Isolated from the outside world, but aware of the band's demise for nearly a year now, Atlanteans had long resigned themselves to never seeing a Beatles visit to their nation. Slogans were high on hopeful messaging.
"The Fab Former Convene For One Night Only, in a very special performance… as the Beatles!"
"And Now… For Atlantis… and to the World: Here They Are!"
The vast ancient open water Amphiareionopolis amphitheater, the stage of which was rechristened Octopus's Garden in the performers’ honor, hosted the event. ABC, the Atlantean Broadcasting Consortium, webcast it live into homes via secure Aquanet, for all the Atlanteans not in attendance. An estimated 94% of the population tuned in, eclipsing the relative stateside interest in the band's famed US debut on the Ed Sullivan Show.
Starr was of course familiar with his own number and the Lennon and Harrison compositions he'd played on in studio. Perhaps all four of them had intimately familiarized themselves with much of each other's solo work before Dorna approached them with this idea; perhaps they found time to rehearse back on land or upon arrival; perhaps it was some irrepressible magic when they all assembled; probably a combination of all factored into what they achieved that night before the enthralled audience. The concert was stellar, overshadowing what until now the surface world has mistakenly believed to be the band's final live performance, nearly two years earlier on Apple's London rooftop. Now, under the waves, they put on the best and last of all Beatles shows. The recording, under George Martin's deft guidance, went flawlessly as did the filming. Realistically, a splendid time had not been guaranteed for all, but one was delivered.
Performing in an enormous amorphous bubble based on same biotech in which the Atlantean delegation had floated over the United Nations Security Council, though tailored to needs of air-breathing surface people, the band took the stage to adoring cheers.
President Rubbqe attended and before the first note delighted the audience and band by rattling her state jewelry.
Lennon, reprising his role as bandleader and keen on promoting the cause at hand, first took the mic. Thanking the fans for years of unsurpassed love and support, apologizing for having never toured there, John declared, as much to the expected subsequent Surface audience as to the Atlanteans experiencing this live, "But even though we no longer exist [laugh], we're here now! It must look like we exist, but we don't— not as a group anyway. And that's all we were, a group. But maybe if we can get together, the surface nations can get it together with this watery world."
The band gestured to lower the stage lights a bit.
John— "Now it's going to sound just like we exist, too."
Paul— "Oh, it's going to really sound like we exist alright!"
Ringo— [drum fill]
George— "'Existence' to the end…"
At that, they launched into Give Peace a Chance, with verses rewritten for the occasion and the chorus alternating with a modified refrain of "give seas a chance."
Interjecting some of their trademark humorous asides, and a further plea or two to Surface fans to demand their political leadership seek peaceful resolution with Atlantis, the Fab Former accompanied by Billy Preston debuted for the Atlanteans every solo song Dorna had proposed, in the sequence he'd crafted, surely transforming them in ways we might only imagine. (The full setlist, which would comprise the four-sided live LP as conceived by Tivowr, can be seen below.)
For one night the dream wasn't over— it was, indeed, dreamier than ever, almost unreal. A total musical triumph, a paramount cultural event, a heartfelt petition for unity through festive euphoria. But to say this call for peace fell on deaf surface ears would be a misstatement; it would fall on no surface ears at all.
As the passionate crowd dispersed, and the Beatles, Preston, Martin, Dorna, and some of the Timaeus team celebrated with an after show toast, a full-scale assault on Atlantis was launched from the surface. The former fabs and their two colleagues were hurried to their yellow submarine for departure back to England. Harrison ruefully remarked this recalled reasons they'd stopped touring. McCartney and Martin implored Dorna for a copy of the recordings to share with the surface networks. But there was no time for that, and Dorna reminded them why: any assault would trigger nearly immediate automatic implementation of Operation New Atlantis. The six surfacemen needed to board that sub and exit the realm posthaste, lest they be transported off-world with all of Atlantis' population, buildings, infrastructure, tech, and secrets. Among these secrets was the one these half dozen visitors had sworn to keep under the circumstances now unfolding: for their own safety, and that of the Surface world at large, they must never tell of the one and only time they reconvened, nor speak of the cause for which they reunited, nor divulge the emergency remedy of total Atlantean departure. The disappearance of Atlantis must remain a mystery, their own involvement unspoken.
Only now does the truth surface, illuminating for outsiders the final manifestation of this global popular music phenomenon at their idealistic gig on the last day of Atlantis on Earth.
Surface leadership was baffled, finally realizing how completely outclassed they had been all along by Atlantis. Imperialist in outlook, they could not fathom why Atlantis would abdicate their oceanic realm rather than subjugate the surface and impose rule over Earth as they themselves would surely do given similar advantages. Mendaciously, in the aftermath of the vanishment of Atlantis, surface leaders returned to their earlier pose of outright denial, claiming the underwater nation never existed, and accusing their surface enemies of propagating the myth. Not so surprisingly, huge swaths of the surface population took this on faith, relegating Atlantis to status of fable.
We can dream that one day Atlanteans reach out to Earth, disabusing our world of our disbelief, reestablishing relations. Then may we Surface People eventually see and hear the storied final Beatles performance — or first and only performance by the ex-Beatles, the fab former — showcasing their near-wizardry when assembled as a creative force.
Shortly after arrival and resettlement on New Atlantis, before the year was out and in time to commemorate the traditional winter solstice Timaeus presumably issued the live recording double LP Let's At Sea as The Beatles' final entry in their unique Atlantis discography.
1. Give Peace a Chance †
2. I'd Have You Any Time (early take) °3. The Lovely Linda *4. Well Well Well ‡5. Oo You *6. Awaiting on You All (early take) °7. My Sweet Lord §
1. Mother ‡2. Hold On ‡3. Run of the Mill (demo) °4. That Would Be Something *5. Apple Scruffs 🜃6. Look at Me ‡7. Man We Was Lonely *
8. Isolation ‡
1. Cold Turkey †2. It Don't Come Easy ∞3. Every Night *4. I Dig Love 🜃5. Momma Miss America *
6. God ‡
1. What Is Life 🜃2. Junk *3. Working Class Hero ‡4. Wah-Wah 🜃5. Maybe I'm Amazed *6. Instant Karma! (We All Shine On) †
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