A Lifeline From Across the Universe

‘Across the Universe’ was written by John Lennon in 1969, just as cracks were emerging in his relationship with Paul McCartney. The band struggled to give each songwriter their fair share of attention, which left Lennon feeling like they never “made a good record” of his song.

“The guitars are out of tune and I’m singing out of tune… and nobody’s supporting me or helping me with it… the song was never done properly.” – John Lennon (1980)

For the next 30 years ‘Across the Universe’ existed in a strange limbo: it clearly had the hallmarks of a Beatles’ classic – a catchy chorus, a beguiling riff – but was conspicuously incomplete. The 1969 recording lacked the full arrangement and glossy production of most Beatles’ songs. It sounded more like a blueprint than a final version.

The song was stuck in stasis. Occasionally, artists like David Bowie or Rufus Wainwright would dig it out from the archives and attempt to revive it, but their versions lacked real substance. The heart of the song, the special little something that brings everything together, proved desperately elusive... Perhaps it was never that great in the first place.

Then, in 1998, Fiona Apple recorded a version of the song for Gary Ross’ film Pleasantville. Her cover was lush and powerful: big drums, full orchestra and anthemic vocals. It leant into the lyric's cosmic dimensions and provided the turbo boost it required. If Lennon’s original song was a sketched outline, then Apple’s version was the finished oil painting.

'Across the Universe' finally sounded like it should do. “It is not only better than Rufus Wainwright’s, but better than the original itself”, gushed Entertainment Weekly.

I found Apple’s version after listening to her new album ‘Fetch the Bolt Cutters’. In many ways, the songs from that album are the true anthems of 2020, especially the way they mix personal with political, fury with tenderness, and vulnerability with strength. The album confirmed Apple as a true auteur operating at the peak of her game.

But for me – for my anthem of 2020 – the award must go to her cover of 'Across the Universe'. The song came on as I was shuffling through her back catalogue and I just had to stop. And play it again. And then again. And then again. I was transfixed. She captured something indescribable that I didn’t even realise I was feeling.

The song itself comes in tides. Starting with a strident acoustic guitar riff, it builds with military drums and a fluctuating bass, before crashing in on itself with cathartic cymbals. Like waves rolling into the seashore, it is gripped by an otherworldly momentum: building tension, releasing it and then starting over again.

Over the top of the waves, Apple prompts and guides the song with a layered vocal performance. At first, she sounds fatalistic, allowing the music to sweep over and push her around. She sings:

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy Are drifting through my opened mind

as if she has nothing to do with it. Things just happen to her.

Then, in the first chorus, Apple’s tone changes. She seems to step away from the song a little and gives herself room to find her own rhythm. The music still comes in waves but she is no longer caught up in the currents.

By the third verse, the drums fade away and her voice re-asserts control. She is no longer dictated by the music; the music responds to her. She proclaims with confidence:

Nothing’s going to change my worldn Nothing’s going to change my world.

Apple moves through these distinct vocal styles with skill and precision. It’s a simultaneously deeply emotionally and stunningly dextrous performance, taking us on a journey without us really noticing. As the final notes play out, and Apple’s words fade away, you are left stewing in pain, hope and despair.

But listening to the song in the middle of a pandemic hits different. I think there’s a couple of reasons why.

First, Apple perfectly captures the surrealness of lockdown life. Like the music video (directed by Paul Thomas Anderson), the song seems to inhabit a universe where things are falling apart. The whole thing feels like it's in a daze: vaguely dreamlike, sometimes scary and unnervingly similar to what we are living through right now.

Second, I think there’s real meaning behind the song’s mantra, especially the way Apple sings it. “Nothing is going to change my world” should not be heard as a cry for help or an admission of defeat, but a defiant assertion: do not let the things you can’t control overcome you, be accountable for the things you can change. Nothing is going to change your world unless you change first. By the end of the song, I felt my low-key existential dread transform into something more constructive and healing.

Third, and perhaps most importantly, I think the song teaches us something important about time. This pandemic has left us all with a lot of empty space, and after the initial rush to fill it ‘productively’ (I never learnt German), a harder question arises: will things ever change?

'Across the Universe', written over 50 years ago, shows us that things of value take time to mature. Today might just not be our day, but that doesn't mean we give up. Real change, real progress, is a product of a sustained commitment to improve ourselves and the world around us.

This is something that has always been true of Apple as an artist. Over the course of her career, she has evolved in deep and meaningful ways. Not one to follow trends or jump on bandwagons, she uses her time to genuinely grow as an artist. In a recent New Yorker interview she put it simply:

“I still only travel by foot, and by foot it’s a slow climb... But I’m good at being uncomfortable, so I can’t stop changing all the time.”

The sentiment shines through a song like 'Across the Universe'.

Or maybe I'm going too far – maybe I’m caught up in some pandemic-induced mawkishness. But this song will always remind me of those strange days walking around empty streets, not knowing what the future holds, but feeling fundamentally okay.

'Across the Universe' was written 50 years ago, but wasn't finished until 1998. For my money, the song found its true moment in 2020.