“Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”

It isn’t my least-favorite Beatles song

Why did the Beatles break up? There is no single cause. Some people blame Yoko Ono (a reasonable contributing factor). Some people blame the financial shenanigans of the band’s post–Brian Epstein manager, Allen Klein (definitely a contributing factor; McCartney saw, unlike his bandmates, that Klein was a crook). But if there was a musical reason for the break up, it might well be “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.”

Ian MacDonald, in his magisterial overview of the Beatles’ entire recorded output, Revolution in the Head: The Beatles’ Records and the Sixties, called McCartney’s song “sniggering nonsense” and said the song “represents by far his worst lapse of taste under the auspices of The Beatles.”

Mind you, MacDonald could also go after Lennon and Harrison. MacDonald condemns Lennon’s “Run for Your Life” for its “lazy sexist lyric unmitigated by any saving irony” and says of Harrison’s “Piggies” that its “bludgeoning satire on straight society” is “an embarrassing blot on his discography.” But there seems to be a special animus reserved for “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer,” and not just for MacDonald. In fact, I can think of three other people who most definitely didn’t like the song:

“That’s Paul’s. I hate it. ’Cause all I remember is the track — he made us do it a hundred million times. He did everything to make it into a single and it never was and it never could have been.” — John Lennon

“Sometimes Paul would make us do these really fruity songs. I mean, my god, ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ is so fruity.” — George Harrison

“The worst session ever was ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.’ It was the worst track we ever had to record. It went on for fucking weeks. I thought it was mad.” — Ringo Starr

It’s true that McCartney wrote a few “granny” songs, Lennon’s unkind appellation for his partner’s cheery, music hall–styled songs, such as “When I’m Sixty-Four” and “Honey Pie.” But I rather like those two songs, and I like “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” as well, though if I were making a list of my Top Ten favorite McCartney-penned Beatles songs, it wouldn’t make the list.

Lyrically, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” is certainly a strange song. Is it McCartney exhibiting bad taste, or is the song intended to be comic and that most people don’t see the humor? I can tell you that when I first heard the song, the rising intonation of the melody at “studied pataphysical science” always made me laugh. I don’t know why, but there’s something amusing about that unexpected upward melody.

Although “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” is a goofball song for sure, it also showcases McCartney’s subtle genius as a composer. I’m referring to the Moog synthesizer deep in the mix. Notice how the Moog’s melody is paired beautifully to the main melody: two independent melodies working together, otherwise known as counterpoint, a Bach-like element that McCartney brings to some of his best songs — including some he’s written as a solo artist (“Wanderlust,” from Tug of War, is an outstanding example).

So do I have a least-favorite Beatles song? It obviously comes down to a matter of taste. Some people think “Here, There and Everywhere” is cloying. Me, I love its gossamer beauty as did Lennon, who once said it’s one of his favorite songs by his songwriting pal. But there are songs I do pass by: “Don’t Pass Me By” is one; “All Together Now” is another. I can also say the same for “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?”, which achieves nothing as a song. Ditto “Dig It.”

The Beatles had their weak songs, no question about it. But it’s also fair to say that all sorts of creative people have their weak entries. Nobody thinks Alfred Hitchcock’s last three movies are among his best. No one is going to put Buddy Buddy alongside Some Like It Hot or The Apartment in their list of favorite Billy Wilder movies. So what is my least-favorite Beatles song? I can’t decide, but I know if I had to come up with a Top Five, “Yer Blues” and “Wild Honey Pie” would certainly make the list. Wait, there’s also “Revolution 9.” Well, if that can even be called a song.

Oh, and the worst cover song by the Beatles? For a hint, it’s worth quoting MacDonald: “Lennon’s berserk delivery blasts away much of the song’s gaudy chintz, only for this to be reinstated in all its gold lamé ghastliness by McCartney’s Hammond organ solo.” Yeah, that would be “Mr. Moonlight.”

Barry Lyons is a freelance writer in New York City. Here’s his necessary guide when selecting your five favorite Beatles songs.