Getting Better

This song sounds as if it’s floating on a constant hum—the kind of foundation you don’t really notice but that holds everything together. The Beatles built it with chords that repeat without losing their power, and the detail lies in how that almost hypnotic background blends with layers that shift subtly. George Harrison added an Indian touch with a tambura in the last verse, giving the melody that air of coming from somewhere else. The drums and bass, on the other hand, go their own way: Paul McCartney’s bass moves with a calmness that contrasts with the sharp strikes of the strings, as if he were walking unhurriedly while the rest of the band moves forward. It’s one of those pieces where each instrument seems to have its own rhythm, but they all end up coming together.

The lyrics were born from two distinct visions. McCartney began writing them one day in 1967 while walking his dog in Hampstead, jotting down ideas on a piano that had a distinctive sound—almost out of tune but warm. John Lennon, on the other hand, gave it a rawer twist: his verses about violence in his personal relationships gave the song an unexpected weight. The curious thing is that the title itself came from a phrase that Jimmie Nicol—the drummer who replaced Ringo Starr on a tour of Australia—often repeated. They recorded it in March 1967 at EMI Studios in London, during sessions that weren’t always peaceful: in one of them, Lennon mistook a pill for LSD and ended up dizzy on the studio ceiling, forcing the others to bring him down before he put himself at unnecessary risk. Despite everything, the result stands as a reflection of how optimism and darkness can coexist within the same song.