Record Plant, New York City
Producers: John Lennon, Yoko Ono, Phil Spector
Engineers: Roy Cicala, Jack Douglas
The first of two recording sessions for John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ took place on 28 October 1971.
The sessions took place at the Record Plant in New York City. Phil Spector, who had previously recorded the classic 1963 album A Christmas Gift For You, was the producer.
The backing track was recorded in seven takes, with take six selected as the best. Takes 2, 3, and 4 were incomplete, and take 5 was a false start.
Lennon had wanted Klaus Voormann to play bass guitar on the recording, but his flight from Germany to New York was delayed. The bass part was initially recorded by one of the guitarists recruited for the session, but was replaced during an overdub session on 30 October.
The 16-track master tape had Hugh McCracken’s acoustic guitar on tracks 1 and 2, and Chris Osborne’s on tracks 3 and 4. Other acoustic guitars, played by Lennon, Teddy Irwin, and Stuart Scharf, were recorded to tracks 11, 6, and 12 respectively.
Voormann’s bass guitar was eventually recorded onto track 5, and Jim Keltner overdubbed a sleigh bell onto track 13.
Nicky Hopkins’ piano was on track 7, and he also added glockenspiel and chimes to the same track during a reduction mix. More piano by Hopkins was added to track 9, along with vocals by Lennon and Yoko Ono.
Tracks 8 and 10 were used by Spector as echo tracks. The remaining three tracks, 13-14, were used for Keltner’s drums.
Present at the sessions was Melody Maker reporter Richard Williams.
John is sitting on the fringed carpet of the Record Plant, a studio on West 44th Street.He’s surrounded by five young acoustic guitarists, to whom, he’s teaching the chords of Happy Christmas.
Why all those rhythm guitars? Listen – just remember who’s producing this session, brother.
One of the guitarists is Hugh McCracken, the brilliant session musician who played on Ram, but John doesn’t know that yet.
He asks them for their names, “Chris.” “Teddy.” “Stu.” “Hugh.” John turns to Yoko. “Hey, that Hugh looks like Ivan, doesn’t he? Hugh, you look just like an old school-mate of mine.”
There’s a little break, and everybody gets up and walks around. Someone tells John about Hugh.
“Oh, so you were just auditioning on Ram, were you?” John asks. “Yeah, ’e said you were all right.”
Everyone grins.
They’re back to learning the tune, getting the feel. “Just pretend it’s Christmas,” John tells them. “I’m Jewish,” says one. “Well, pretend it’s your birthday then.”
They’ve all got it down, so John leads them into a jam on ‘Too Much Monkey Business’, ‘Rock Island Line’, and ‘Slippin’ And Slidin”. It’s meat and drink to them.
Suddenly there’s a little flurry at the entrance. Phil Spector’s arrived, in big shades, wearing a red and white button saying “Back To Mono”, which breaks everyone up. But he’s serious, you know.
Immediately, the session is working. Within seconds of getting behind the huge band, Spector is thinking in terms not just of sound, but of arrangement, drama, production. It takes him about 10 seconds to get a sound which transforms the guitars from a happy rabble into a brilliant cutting wash of colour, and they aren’t even miked properly yet.
“Play that back to ’em,” Phil tells the engineer. “Get ’em relaxed.” It does just that, and during the playback Phil goes into the studio and dances around with John.
They run through the changes again, with Nicky Hopkins on piano this time. Immediately, Phil tells him: “Nicky, I’d like to hear more of that in octaves in the right hand… makes it more dramatic.” John leans down to the guitar mike and shouts: “Don’t dictate on them yet, Phil. Let’s get comfortable first.” Already, you see, Spector is in the groove, moulding and blending and transforming in the tradition of Be My Baby, Then He Kissed Me, and River Deep. Right now, well ahead of everyone (even Lennon), he’s hearing what it’s going to sound like when it’s coming out of a million transistors.
At this point, they add bass and drums. Jim Keltner settles behind his kit, and one of the rhythm guitarists is moved over to the bass because Klaus’ flight from Germany has been delayed and he’s going to miss the session. They can’t wait.
They run it down a few times, and Keltner’s expression while playing is like that of a man whose toes are being slowly eaten away by a shoal of piranhas. It’s sounding very good, the tape is spinning all the time, and after each run they come back and listen.
John: “I like ones that sound like records…”
“…before you’ve made ’em.” Phil finishes the sentence for him.
Without even seeming to notice, they’re doing takes. During the second or third, it really begins to lift off. Phil is sitting at the board, staring through the sound-proofed window into the studio, spitting out comments at the engineer: “More echo on the piano, Roy… more echo… more… more… more echo, c’mon! More! That’s it!”
He stands up during the second chorus, arms wind-milling, looking at Keltner, signalling and willing him to lay into his tom-toms, urging him to explode like Hal Blaine did almost 10 years ago. Keltner strains to oblige, and the take ends in a blaze of glory with Phil shouting “F*****g great! Great!”
Now, as the overdubs start, the Spector magic is again overwhelmingly apparent. At John’s suggestion, the acoustic guitars play a mandolin-like riff, strongly reminiscent of Ronnie Spector’s ‘Try Some, Buy Some’, and all sorts of percussive effects are tried.
Nicky plays chimes and glockenspiel, which have been hastily hired, and Keltner adds a jangling four-on-the-bar on a handy pair of sleigh bells.
“How can you make a song called ‘Happy Christmas’ without bells?” Phil had asked, rhetorically, earlier.
Now he’s smiling and mutters from the corner of his mouth: “I know something about Christmas records, you know.”
Instantly, minds float back to Philles LP 4005, A Christmas Gift For You, several months in the making back there in the 60s, and now a rare classic to those who know it. After that, Phil probably knew more about making Christmas records than anyone in the world.
The instrumental dubs over, time comes for the vocal track to be cut. The song itself is really in three parts: the verse, sung by John; the chorus, sung by Yoko; and a secondary chorus, sung under the lead vocal, for which they’ll be getting in a bunch of kids the next day.
John says that he wrote it “because I was sick of ‘White Christmas’,” and it could well take over as the annual Yuletide anthem. It’s terrifically singable, in the tradition of ‘All You Need Is Love’ or ‘Give Peace A Chance’, and it’s very pretty, too. The words are simple and direct, with the chorus going “War is over/If you want it/War is over now,” while John and Yoko express appropriate good wishes to all mankind.
The pair of them enter the studio, clap on the cans, and start singing over the track. John sounds wheezy, unable to hit the high notes, and Phil shouts through the talk back: “Yoko’s out-singing you, John.”
He tells everyone in the booth: “He’s smoking his ass off while he’s singing,” and shakes his head in disapproval.
John finally gets Yoko to come in at all the right places, with the aid of tactful prods in the back, and when Phil’s got the right echo on the voices they finally lay it down right, and come back to listen to the rough mix.
It’s right, and they start talking about what they’re going to do with the strings, which they’ll overdub in a couple of days. Phil has the idea of getting them to play Silent Night over the fade, and after falling about they all agree that it’s exactly right.
Nicky is worrying about the piano part, which he’s already overdubbed, and wants to do it again. They listen back once more, tell him it’s perfectly all right as it is, and John adds: “Did you know that George wanted to redo his guitar solos on ‘Gimme Some Truth’ and ‘How Do You Sleep?’. That’s the best he’s ever played in his life, and he’d never get that feeling again, but he’d go on for ever if you let him.”
Once again they remix what they have. By this time it’s four o’clock, and after a few more listens everyone goes home.
Uncut, January 1998
On 29 October the single’s b-side, ‘Listen, The Snow Is Falling’, was recorded. The composition, written by Ono in 1968, featured the same musicians as on ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’, minus the acoustic guitarists and children.
‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ was completed on 30 October