Then he delves into the music. “We didn’t sound natural,” he admits. The thirty-five-minute audition tape contains fifteen songs, and John can find fault on just about every single one: he sang like a crazed madman; Paul sounded like a woman. George, always the perfectionist, played well. But Pete’s a painfully average drummer. Plus, his stage presence is no presence at all. Pete never makes any eye contact, never smiles, just drums with his head down.

They haven’t even bothered to tell Pete about the Decca rejection, as they are questioning his investment in the group.

“At least the BBC thinks we’re good,” George says. Brian’s booked them to record in front of a live audience for a BBC radio program called Here We Go that will air them in a half-hour slot called “Teenager’s Turn.” It pays well and, even better, will reach millions of listeners.

The boys arrive dressed in their new mohair suits, bright white shirts, and thin ties. Their trousers are trim, and they’re wearing Chelsea boots fitted with Cuban heels. Their hair is no longer slicked back with grease but clean and combed forward in a strange “mop-top” style. Astrid Kirchherr, Stuart’s fiancée, gave Stu the haircut first, and George liked it so much he asks her to cut his hair, too. Paul and John are more skeptical. “John was always a little bit sarcastic,” Astrid recalls, “so at first, even with the hairstyle, he couldn’t stop laughing, but in the end he just joined in. That was John. That was typical.” Which leaves only Pete still Brylcreemed, though Astrid points out, “Pete couldn’t have the hairstyle anyway because he had curly hair.”

Shocking new look aside, the Beatles are on their best behavior. They play four songs—“Hello Little Girl,” Chuck Berry’s “Memphis,” Roy Orbison’s “Dream Baby (How Long Must I Dream),” and the Marvelettes’ “Please Mr. Postman”—and win over the live audience of 250 young people, everyone cheering and clapping. As the band walks off, John feels happy, particularly with his singing on “Memphis” and their take on “Please Mr. Postman,” which introduced the “Motown sound” to much of the British listening public. Last summer, Bob Wooler had declared in Mersey Beat, “The Beatles were the stuff that screams were made of.” Tonight, when they finished their last song, nearly all the girls had indeed screamed.

“We should listen to the broadcast at my house,” Pete suggests. They all agree, because the radiogram belonging to his mother, Mona, gets the best FM monophonic signals.

Their songs sound great on the radio.

The boys jump about the living room—even stoic Pete can’t contain his excitement.

“We weren’t just recording stars,” Pete marvels, “but radio stars!”

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Life is very short…

—“We Can Work It Out”